I'm a boy with the best of intentions, but they're not always enough to know what I should say to you when you tell me what's been wrong for so long

You whisper in your sleep, the ages twelve to eighteen. A sentence for the crimes of which you're guilty. And me: an accomplice from the knowledge of your deeds

I'll try to uphold my end of the bargain. If I can, we just might make it to September and beyond

I'm a boy with great expectations for eighteenth-century love, made possible by our generous donors whose names we're not all that sure of

But I'll try to uphold my end of the bargain. If I can, we just might make it to September and beyond