Текст песни
Under that soft skin
I hear a ticking,
The currency of being twenty-three.
It turns from gold to dust,
When you crest the wave of lust.
So take all you can
From the mouth of man.
Ingénue framed like a cartoon,
The borders clear and defined,
The colors bold and bright.
You'll want to be taken more seriously,
But they just play a cue,
And it's such a hard thing to do.
So take all you can,
From the mouth of man,
And escape from this town
Before your sand runs out,
Before your sand runs out.
Ingénue, what will become of you
When age's glacial pace
Cuts valleys into your face?
The currency of being twenty-three,
It will remain the same
Just by another name.
Oh, ingénue,
What will you do?
Oh, ingénue,
What have we done to you?
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