Text: Karate. In Place Of Real Insight. This, Plus Slow Song.

Imagine yourself young, with pockets full of water. You haven't learned to hesitate yet. And the sun beats down all on your skinny neck, as we kick around the shore. You know the rest. Imagine yourself dumb, like someone's careless daughter. You can't remeber just what he said, but it still bears down all in your pretty head. You'll never know for sure, but you give him hell.