Текст песни Classic (Color Theory) с переводом

I lose myself

In beautiful things

Does a butterfly die

If you tear off its wings?

It’s not jealousy

In the classical sense

I’m black and blue

Come tickle me pink

The memories smile

Lift me out of the drink

It’s not suffering

In the classical sense

The wildest extreme

At seventeen

Now it’s a classic

Now it’s a classic

Can’t blink out the dust in my eyes

I’m half alive

Marooned in traffic

Marooned in traffic

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

I’m going out of style

But you’re not coming with me

No, not by a mile

You were pretty then

You’re beautiful now

You’re beautiful now

The wildest extreme

At seventeen

Now it’s a classic

Now it’s a classic

Can’t blink out the dust in my eyes

I’m half alive

Wrapped up in plastic

The throwaway scene

At seventeen

Now it’s a classic

Now it’s a classic

Old classmates name-dropping like flies

The facile lies

Bleeding nostalgic

Bleeding nostalgic

Bleeding nostalgic

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