I want to go to a record store with you we can spend the little money we have left on The Smiths, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd for an hour or two we can be angsty teens in the 80s who drink cheap beer and steal our parents cars lets pretend were running away from home, from school, from everything we know I wanna lay on the floor of your apartment put a record on the turntable and hear that sweet crackle we'll listen to what we've bought and pretend we're watching the stars through the ceiling they'll dance to the beat like a laser show in our eyes while mind blowing guitar riffs and drum beats fill our spirits