Lyrics:

I lose myself
In beautiful things
Does a butterfly die
If you tear off its wings?
Its not jealousy
In the classical sense

Im black and blue
Come tickle me pink
The memories smile
Lift me out of the drink
Its not suffering
In the classical sense

The wildest extreme at seventeen
Now its a classic
Cant blink out the dust in my eyes
Im half alive
Marooned in traffic

These streets of old
I wander with you
With a hole in my heart
And a rock in my shoe
But I know the way
In the classical sense
In the factual sense

So dress me down
Im going out of style
But youre not coming with me
No not by a mile
You were pretty then
Youre beautiful now
Youre beautiful now

The wildest extreme at seventeen
Now its a classic
Cant blink out the dust in my eyes
Im half alive
Wrapped up in plastic

The throwaway scene at seventeen
Now its a classic
Old classmates name-dropping like flies
The facile lies
Bleeding nostalgic.