Oh, she's a dying art.
She's a weathered? leaf,
at times of thunderstorm.
And he's a prodigal son,
with his back to the wall,
he's an atomic bomb.

And she said, she said, she says:
I remember you, 
your switch-blade eyes.
The coolest thing to do,
was to let [bad word] inside.
Hands behind my back,
my tongue tied,
bear with me now,
let's go for a ride.

She's a dying art,
she's a weathered? leaf,
at times of thunderstorm.
And I'm the prodigal one,
with my back to the wall,
I'm the atomic bomb.

And she said, she said, she says:
I remember you,
your switch-blade eyes.
The coolest thing to do,
was to let [bad word] inside.
Hands behind my back,
my tongue tied,
bear with me now,
let's go for a ride.

I remember you,
your switch-blade eyes.
The coolest thing to do,
was to let [bad word] inside.
Hands behind my back,
my tongue tied,
bear with me now,
let's go for a ride,
for a ride,
for a ride.