Miss Juvenile

Well, it's a broken, convalescent world, you're salt in open sores
You live so bright and wonderfully, occupying revolving doors
You live amongst all good reflections of the past
But when your gaze looks up ahead, you feel it doesn't last

Oh, I'm curious
As to why

You're talkin' 'bout me, and you give it your best guess
You'll have to raise your voice a little louder than the next
You spin your words, and then you shoot them every way
You'll hold the trigger until your dying day

Oh, I'm curious
As to why

How many times have I looked at you, and you looked back at me?
Where you could say the gaze exchanged was anything close to weak?
How many questions should I ask to benefit my mind?
Then, once I know the answers beg to hit rewind?

Oh, I'm curious
As to why