Clean your room
Of teenage-thoughts now
You said: Make a choice
Make an independent decision
I held a hand
Across your warm skin
You said: Close the door
We've got something to sort out
You stood there with your knife
Next to your german car
You cut my cold life
Patterned to a war
You stole my gaze
You walked your own path
You said: There are small tricks
That makes people mean well
And the songs that i heard
And the films i saw
Were the wildest things i did
But nothing was as huge
Like when
You stood there with your knife
Next to your german car
You cut my cold life
Patterned to a war