With the cops on your lips it's a holy routine If stop all your trips you could see what I mean I not slip 'bout you're under 18 You had it in your hands
Leave it up to me It's a disease Keep it in your fleece Don't worry about the customs don't I'll tell you just how good can be, this lazy summer
But you got no relief from the in your head it's hollow and greased and it says that you're dead But make fun and tease and the things that you said They always stab your back And I've holding out for love ever since I had a heart