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Maybe, maybe it's the clothes we wear, |
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The tasteless bracelets and the dye in our hair, |
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Maybe it's our kookiness, |
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Or maybe, maybe it's our nowhere towns, |
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Our nothing places and our cellophane sounds, |
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Maybe it's our looseness, |
|
But we're trash, you and me, |
|
We're the litter on the breeze, |
|
We're the lovers on the streets, |
|
Just trash, me and you, |
|
It's in everything we do, |
|
It's in everything we do... |
|
Or Maybe, maybe it's the things we say, |
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The words we've heard and the music we play, |
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Maybe it's our cheapness, |
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Or maybe, maybe it's the times we've had, |
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The lazy days and the crazes and the fads, |
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Maybe it's our sweetness, |
|
But we're trash, you and me, |
|
We're the litter on the breeze, |
|
We're the lovers on the streets, |
|
Just trash, me and you, |
|
It's in everything we do, |
|
It's in everything we do... |
|
We're trash, you and me, |
|
We're the lovers on the streets, |
|
We're the litter on the breeze, |
|
Just trash, me and you, |
|
It's in everything we do, |
|
It's in everything we do... |
