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There's a bear inside your stomach. |
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The cub's been kicking from within. |
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He's loud, though without vocal chords |
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We'll put an end to him. |
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We'll make all the right appointments. |
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No one ever has to know. |
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And then tommorow I'll turn 21. |
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We'll script another show. |
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We'll play charades up in the Chelsea. |
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Drink champagne although you shouldn't be. |
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We'll be blind and dumb until we fall asleep. |
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None of our friends will come. |
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They dodge our calls. |
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And they have for quite awhile now. |
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It's not a shock. |
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You don't seem to mind and I just can't see how. |
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We're too old. |
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We're not old, old at all. |
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Just too old. |
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We're not old, old at all. |
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There's a bear inside your stomach. |
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The cub's been kicking you for weeks. |
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And if this isn't all a dream. |
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Well then we'll cut him from beneath. |
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Well we're not scared of making caves. |
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Or finding food for him to eat. |
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We're terrified of one another. |
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And terrified of what that means. |
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But we'll make only quick decisions. |
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And you'll just keep my in the waiting room. |
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And all the while i'll know we're fucked. |
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And not getting unfucked soon. |
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When we get home we're bigger strangers than we've ever been before. |
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You sit in front of snowy television, suitcase on the floor. |
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We're too old. |
|
We're not old, old at all. |
|
Just too old. |
|
We're not old, old at all. |
|
Just too old. |
|
We're not old, old at all. |
|
Just too old. |
|
We're not old, old at all. |
|
Just too old. |
|
We're not old, old at all. |
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Just too old. |
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We're not old, old, old, old at all. |
