1600, 1600, 1600 on the SATs. Said they getting, said they getting, said they getting a car for me. Just 16 miles from the lights of the city, pour a little liquor in the my Starbucks viny. Cause we're secretly out of control, nobody knows it, and my mom's got a problem with cigs, and I'm angry, cause my dad's not open minded anymore, but I stop prying, cause there's things I don't want him to know.