Turn your tassels baby, and spread your tan-lined legs. Pinning paper hearts on designer clothes is just so fucking teenage. Love me do, he loves me not. Deep in love with love. Oh, sweet romantic thoughts. Laugh and dance through sweet romance, and cherry-pop your way to popularity. Turn your tassels baby, and spread your tan-lined legs. Snort lines of coke through a plastic nose, and purge, purge, purge away. Beauty so skin deep leaves only shallowness as the popular decay. The high school known sit on a flimsy throne, and abort their lives each day. And you sing to yourself on repeat: I love me, me, me.