Shake and stir yourself into a bad excuse A half-hearted fuck you Imagine all the nowhere places we'd have been And all the cynicism aside, and let me try to turn these awful words Into a cure, not a curse And I'm still drawn by the kid in the corner And the lovely angels alone on benches I'm still making pleas To the kid whose clothes don't fit Who hasn't found himself just yet Let alone the chance to love You cross him off your list This shit is piling up head over fist While you're, While you're, While you're making eyes across the room While you're making eyes across the room While you're making eyes across the room While you're making eyes across the room They got caught standing bored by the sidewalk They tried to turn the opera into a punk rock stage They cut and run at such a tender age