you'll never look as beautiful as underneath that buzzing streetlight nnshouting curse words at the night sky, with tears streaming from your eyes nnbut in true classic fashion, i couldn't take cover fast enough nnand the falling voices just fell back onto me nnnni said, things'll make more sense when we're back in california nnyeah, things'll make more sense when we're back in california nnnnlittle did i know that you're composed entirely of cigarettes nnand the angry vows you screamed that night were a symphony of empty threats nnoh, but you had my toes tappin, honey nnand the melody is still stuck in my head nnnnso i fear the only thing that'll let me get some sleep nnis the music box i found in your chest when we were lying in the street nnbut back on the coast, it seems your blood boils to electro beats nnthere's nothing classic about it, there's nothing classic about it nnnnyour words are washing up on the beach nnplease stop making sense, please stop making sense nni can't stand it nnnnyou said, love has a cruel habit of nnnot lasting the night, not crossing state lines nnnnso come on, nnthere are no sirens sounding, nnthere are no burning buildings falling around us, nnso that's not love at all, no, not at all nnnnso come on, nnyour lungs aren't collapsing, nni mean, if you're still breathing, nnthen really, come on now, nnthat's not love at all, no, not at all nnnnyour words are washing up on the beach nnplease stop making sense, please stop making sense nni can't stand it