When we were young, we could piss off the boys' bog wall
A black expanse of pitch, or tar, or whatever it was...
When we were young, we could piss off the boys' bog wall
A black expanse of pitch, or tar, or whatever it was
(Trunks, dripping slowly into the gutter and the floor. Canopy's stretched black...)
It doesn't matter much anymore
And tussles with the girls before the advent of pubescent awe and confusion
(You could, I could, it's invisible...)
Knickers thick, pasty in the roar of adolescence's dawn
(Trunks, dripping slowly into the gutter and the floor. Canopy's stretched black...)
How innocent and cruel ran the gauntlet of first stirrings in the changing rooms of May
(You could, I could, it's invisible...)
(Trunks, dripping slowly into the gutter and the floor. Canopy's stretched black...)
Where are you now? Don't answer that
(You could, I could, it's invisible...)
I'm still ugly, you're still fat
I've still got spots, I'm still afraid
(You could, I could, it's invisible...)
Our parents made us what we are
Or was it God?
Who gives a fuck, it's never really over!