I want to die young. I think it's awful to get old, and sickness is ugly.
As far as I'm concerned, love means fighting, big fat lies, and a couple of slaps across the face.
When he takes me in his arms, and speaks to me softly, I see the world through rose-colored glasses.
I don't want to die an old lady.
Don't care what people say. Don't give a damn about their laws.
I wouldn't mind at all coming back to earth after my death.