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When I was a child, I died in your arms And I thought I'd be happy when I fall apart I read the books I was given, dreamt of movies and stars I craved physical connection without biblical scars When I was a child, I loved to pretend the men that looked at my body loved the way I dressed I never fucked someone over, without fucking their friends I love the way I'm unhappy, wear it right on my bare chest, but I want more than my head on my shoulders Brains spilled on the floor Without goals, I feel myself getting coldеr, hate getting older And whеn I retire, I'll think back to when I had a feeling that somehow I'd make it through to the end Did I leave it on the table? Dance my dance, Fred Astaire If I can make it to fifty, I might be happier, babe (Oh, Baby) I want more than my head on my shoulders Brains spilled on the floor Without goals, I feel myself getting colder, hate getting older I hate getting older I want more than my head on my shoulders Brains spilled on the floor Without goals, I feel myself getting colder I'm in love with the thought of it From Letras Mania