>Okay, so look, I'm 17 years old
>And you're the last, best thing I've got going
>But then the special secret sickness starts to eat through you
>What am I supposed to do? No way of knowing
>So I follow you down your twisting alleyways
>Find a few cul de sacs of my own
>There's only one place this road ever ends up
>And I don't want to die alone
>Let me down, let me down, let me down gently
>When the police come to get me
>I'm listening to dance music
>Dance music