Were you pulling the iron down your hair
To look like the girls who had the boyfriends and the drugs?

On the weekend you sneak out to find a clearin´ far away

From the houses that are triple the size of yours
And the boys light the fire
Use spare wood and old newspaper
And I think one read a headline
About a blue jean president´s unrelenting war

One of them looks into the eyes of a shitty Miller Lite
And grazes a hand across her shoulders
And up to her neck and down to her thigh
And you wanna die

So you draw up a plan you will never enact
As the boys chug their beers and peak down your chest
You sneak out to find a clearing far away from your house
Build a fire the size of it

And the boys get their third degree
Collegiate burned out frat house schemes
And you read the headlines, imaginary
“Boys Killed Out of Jealousy!”

You wanna die
You wanna die
You wanna die
You wanna die
You wanna die
You wanna die
You wanna die