| Such a sweet sweet sweet young man
|
| Wrapped up in sinister plans
|
| We’re using our hands again
|
| Inside the holes where they always fit
|
| We’re using our hands again
|
| Inside the holes where they will always fit
|
| Recycle time with nothing left
|
| We’re turning words into flesh
|
| I never want to hold a
|
| Never want to hold the gun
|
| I never want to hold the gun
|
| We want to make it so necessary
|
| We want to keep it so ordinary
|
| Into moments loaded with instinct
|
| Don’t you ever say we want the same things
|
| I can’t believe the time that it takes
|
| And we accept what it creates
|
| I wish I could crawl in your head
|
| And kill those dreams you use to define yourself
|
| I never want to hold a
|
| Never want to hold the gun
|
| I never want to hold the gun
|
| We want to make it so necessary
|
| We want to keep it so ordinary
|
| Into moments loaded with instinct
|
| Don’t you ever say we want the same things
|
| I can’t believe the time that it takes
|
| And we accept what it creates
|
| I wish I could crawl in your head
|
| And kill those dreams you use to define yourself
|
| I never want to hold a
|
| Never want to hold the gun
|
| I never want to hold the gun |