Help me out, pretty please,
just give me anything to put my mind at ease.

This is a song for the innocent,
written out by the insincere,
and I can only hope
I'll be there with the strength
I've had this year.
So much has changed
and we know it's just a matter of time,
the good have died and we're past our prime.

We're stepping past the boundaries
we set so long ago (we keep stepping).
Lift your feet, it's not too far from here,
another kid, another year.
This is the city where my dreams have come to die.
Roses can't grow in this fucking town,
washed up and running out of excuses not to leave
(I told myself I'd never leave).
If I'd only had the time to complete me
(I refuse to let this city defeat me),
if I changed one thing for every day of the fucking year.

There will never be time to die young and pretty.
I still pity the insecure, structured, and fucked.
This is my leap year