We were young, we had plans, that we wrote on the back of
our hands, so the ink could wash off if we found that the
plans had to stop.
In the Spring, in the night, I would hide and give you
such a fright, when I jumped from behind our couch we
spent months trying to buy,
and you held me so tightly that I couldn't breathe and
you whispered assurance that you'd never leave, and we
talked through the night of what we could achieve.
We were young.
There were times, when I felt, that there just couldn't
be anyone else in the world but ourselves and then times
when we put each other through hell.
And I lay all the blame I could find on to you cos'
nearly nothing of what you had said was the truth, and
our only excuse was the on we had used...we were young.
I don't want to leave but I'll go now, no matter how hard
I want, you won't come round, my blues hit your browns by
the door, and I could hit the floot, but the plan on my
palm says I'm leaving.
We had planned, all the songs that we thought could make
us millions, and the time that was left meant we only had
seconds to live.
And I cried to my family and cried to my friends and I
promised my people that this was the end but the thing
that hurts most is I won't kiss you again.
We were young, heeeyyyy, heeeyyyy.
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