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lirik lagu nothing like the first time – watsky

the first time i ate avocado was so amazing that i came

and that was the first time that i came so the only thing i could compare it to is the taste of avocado. pretty much the same

the first time i got high, i ran into my friend’s bedroom and i hung onto each corner of the mattress because i knew that i would be flung into sp-ce if i didn’t hold tight

two years before that i went to my first concert. i was high all night. and the first time someone clapped for me on stage i floated three inches off the pavement walking home

only one girl has ever really wrapped my stomach into pretzels. she didn’t give me b-tterflies. she gave me pterodactyls
i’m talking terrible internal bruising and the first time i kissed her was like the first time i saw fireworks, which was like the sky first kissing me in the eyeb-lls

in high school the self-defense counselor taught us that to defend ourselves against a rapist, by sticking a thumb into the corner of his eye socket and popping it out like a grape
babe, for the chance to be with you, i would pop my own eyeb-lls out and say, “here. i only have eyes for you.”
so everywhere you went you’d carry me around in your pocket and every time you pulled out a handful of loose change i’d get to wink at you and a thousand miles away you would think of how charming i am- me- weaving blindly through la traffic. you- in some bullsh-t other place

but you shouldn’t leave first times until the end of summer
because you went off to college, years p-ssed, and i realized i was the only one calling anymore
and that first kiss hardened into the last. my love: r-t-rded, preserved, a pterodactyl in a tar pit, the music over before it started, a lost guitar pick
i’ve stopped trying to match it, searching for that magical attachment

because marriages are not f-cking disney
bad marriages are sandcastles
good marriages are mcdonald’s hamburgers
you can leave a good marriage on a plate in the sun for fifty years and it stays pretty much the same

they key, i hear, is to fight routine- to make the smallest moments gleam and mean something

and if you ever feel yourself fading, face paint your old and aging creased-up cheeks gold-plated with a jar of first-time and if you need a youthful spruce-up just grab a tube of that new juice and lube up and if you’re hurting just rub the good stuff where you’re burning

but a word of warning
the first time tends to make the bad times worse
there’s the rub
it doesn’t make things better, just louder
it amplifies a murmur… er-er
great is greater. greater is greaterer. and broke… is broker. bone… is b-n-r
it’s not a perfect formula

but the first time that i kissed you, the door of your cr-ppy civic already half-open, you said “i’m glad you did that.”
and i have a feeling that, for you, it wasn’t a first-time
it was a “this one time.”
but i will remember that moment for the rest of my life, even if i have to arm wrestle alzheimer’s for it

and if i ever get a chance to kiss you again, you know, a second time, i’m gonna stick my tongue out and lick you right across your face. because i’ve already kissed you. but i never licked you
and you’ll say, “ugh. why did you do that?” and i’ll say, “hey s-xy. did someone slap you across the face with a banana slug or is that a big shiny trail of first-time on your cheek. maybe we can go back to my place and gets some first-time on the sheets.”

it’s worth it
after all, there’s nothing like the first time
the first time’s always perfect

- watsky

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