I wonder why you're avoiding or realisingnI'm on the edge of a spectrumnI don't know what else it would take.nI cut out this distress, perfect for a bitenAnd let you taste me like a forgein plate.nnPlastic, plastic, plasticnStone, stone, wasted in the light.nDrew perfect pictures of sunflowersnArching their heads the sun.nnPerfect boy, perfect bluenBaking in the sun like a nPile of stolen bills.nnIs this perfect moment stuck in the sheets?nIs it still fresh tasting and full of foam?nThe stench of youth smoked awaynThe stench of youth smoked awaynThe stench of youth smoked awaynThe stench of youth smoked awaynnPlastic, plastic, plasticnStone, stone, wasted in the light.