There's a bear inside your stomach
A cub's been kicking from within
He's loud, though without vocal cords
We'll put an end to him
We'll make all the right appointments
No one ever has to know
And then tomorrow I'll turn twenty-one
We'll script another show
We'll play charades up in the Chelsea
Drink champagne although you shouldn't be
We'll be blind and dumb until we fall asleep
None of our friends will come
They dodge our calls
And they have for quite awhile now
It's not a shock
you don't seem to mind
And I just can't see how.
"We're too old."
"We're not old at all."
"Just too old."
"We're not old at all."
There's a bear inside your stomach
A cub's been kicking you for weeks
And if this isn't all a dream
Well then we'll cut him from beneath
Well we're not scared of making caves
Or finding food for him to eat
We're terrified of one another
Terrified of what that means
But we'll make only quick decisions
And you'll just keep me in the waiting room
And all the while I'll know we're fucked
And not getting un-fucked soon
When we get home we're bigger strangers
Than we've ever been before
You sit in front of snowy television
Suitcase on the floor
"We're too old."
"We're not old at all."
"Just too old."
"We're not old at all."
"Just too old."
"We're not old at all."
"Just too old."
"We're not old at all."
"Just too old."
"We're not old at all."
"Just too old."
"We're not old at all."