Running off over next doors garden before the hour is done It's more a question of feeling than it is a question of fun The confidence is the balaclava, I'm sure you'll baffle 'em good Will the ending reek of salty cheeks and runny makeup alone Or will blood run down the face of a boy bewildered and scorned And you'll find yourself in a skirmish and you wish you'd never been born And you tie yourself to the tracks and there isn't no going back And it's wrong wrong wrong but we'll do it anyway cause we love a bit of trouble Are you pulling her from a burning building or throwing her to the sharks Can only hope that the ending is as pleasurable as the start The confidence is the balaclava, I'm sure you baffle 'em straight And its wrong wrong wrong, she can hardly wait
That's right, he won't let her out his sight Now the shaggers perform And the daggers are drawn Who's the crooks in this crime? That's right, he won't let her out his sight Now the shaggers perform And the daggers are drawn Who's the crooks in this.... Crime! That's right, he wont let her out his sight That's right, he wont let her out his sight That's right, he wont let her out his sight You'll be able to post any day of the most For the sights of all time
You knew that it'd be trouble right before the very first kiss Quiet and assuming but you heard that they were the naughtiest She pleaded with you to take it off but you resisted and fought Sorry sweet, abadrava, he bought my balaclava