This Saturday was tight lipped cold, gripped by the wind on the roll
I think I need to slow my roll too, headlong down a hill hey,
been wanting your touch but you dangle that in front of me for too long
make me feel helpless like I don't have no choice but to love you
Ma downstairs with her friends baking cake stuck in the 70s
dressed in fishnets and licking whipped cream up
I used to sneak out the windows in the arid nights while they partied
but these days this tune's on the jukebox and archaic like the arcade
and so fades us, tell me why like everyday is a change of pace to catch you