We talked about the drugs and we Decided to abstain but still we Locked ourselves inside and then My fingers locked behind your head You hooked your pinkies on my jeans I'm twenty-eight and you're nineteen Compassion, compassion
The innocent fun soon-to-be Will start to feel like currency As we try to get it on in bed You've given me your home and head You put on The Queen Is Dead But I just want to talk instead Compassion, compassion
