Die young, stay pretty.
Deteriorate in your own time.
Tell 'em you're dead and wither away.
Are ya living alone or with your family?
A dried up twig on your family tree?
Are ya waiting for the reaper to arrive?
Or just to die by the hand of love?
Love for youth, love for youth.
So, die young and stay pretty.
Leave only the best behind.
Slipping sensibilities.
Tragedy in your own dream.
Oh, ya sit all alone in your rocking chair, transistor pressed against an ear.
Were ya waiting at the bus stop all your life?
Or just to die by the hand of love?
Love for youth, love for youth.
So live fast 'cause it won't last.
Dearly near senility.
Was it good or maybe you won't tell?
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