I wear your scars on my knuckles, baby
To keep you soft
It’s not like us to be given things
We ain’t got much

This city sleeps in a pattern
Of broken junk
But nights like this, it don’t matter
All this dirty fun
We’ll grow high not up

These books and bars and this honesty
They’re all I’ve got
We drive on drugs, feeling everything
Until we get lost

This city sleeps in a pattern
Of broken junk
But nights like this, it don’t matter
All this dirty fun
We’ll grow high not up

I watch your palm hug your guitar
It buzzes like a bomb
I hardly talk
My lips are carved with lust and clumsy thoughts
Who called the cops?

Whatever
We’ll never get caught