I've got a young blood dripping through my veins,
Dribbling out of the scrapes on my knees
[The marks of a child.]
"You're too young for me," you say.
Trying to grow up too quickly, I say,
"You're too old for me."
[The words of a child.]
Then you kiss me,
Making that youthful blood run
To burn in my cheeks,
And make me a woman.