the dance party turned into a wake
there's a punch up outside of yates'
and there are so many beautiful faces
you and me are the troubled teens
will go hang out by the pinball machines
i hope yr hotspots all burn down
and we dont look back when we're leaving town
we just throw the salt over the shoulder
don't be sad the aquaintance is over
i thought i'd like it but i didnt like it
you bet on lame horses you get disappointed
lets cut our loses, cut our throats
divide up the bill and get our coats