Can I lift my dress up for you? Can I lift it in the nighttime? The 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 Well, I'll lift it to the ceiling tiles Of stadiums and shrines You see something to cheer about Well, I'll tell you that it's mine I'm sorry that your mother died That one was my fault I'm sorry anybody dies at all these days I still find reasons to pout Oh, oh Hold all your knives away from my eyes