So it's not loaded stadiums or ballparks
And we're not kids on swingsets on the blacktop
And I thought at fifteen that I'd have it down by sixteen
And twenty-four keeps breathing in my face

Like a mad whore
And twenty-four keeps pounding at my door
Like a friend you don't want to see
Oldness comes with a smile

To every love given child
Oldness comes to rile
The youth who dream suicide

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., ROUGH TRADE PUBLISHING
Writer(s): Mark Edward Kozelek