I was writing songs about wanting to die
When along came the wind,
and she swept me off my feet.
I was always trying to do my best.
Then I realized that my best,
was only half of what I could be.
When we grow old,
we can die alone,
at the Cadillac Motel.
But while we are young,
let's cut our ties,
and set sail towards hell.
Remember how we used to laugh
with our paper cut hearts,
dressed up in black.
I was trying not to change,
but my black t-shirts,
began wearing away the shame
of never having seen brighter days.
When we grow old,
we can die alone,
at the Cadillac Motel.
But while we are young,
let's cut our ties,
and set sail towards hell.