Can I lift my dress up for you?
Can I lift it in the nighttime?
White undersides of my thighs look much better in the dying light
There's a kid in there and he's big, and dumb and he's kinda scared, and he's
Well, he's too old to be there
He's just looking for a ride
I'll lift it to the ceiling tiles
Of stadiums and shrines
You see something to cheer about
I'll tell you that it's mine
And I'm sorry that your mother died
That one wasn't my fault
I'm sorry anybody dies at all these days
I still find reasons to pout
Ooooooooooooh, oh, hold all your knives away from my eyes