Two young kids, a night in May
A country road and a Chevrolet,
Beneath the summer moon
Almost a woman, almost a man
Things like this get out of hand
Seventeen, and that's too soon
You can call it youth
And blame it on the night
You can call it life
And say that it's not right
You can call it foolish
Blame it on the stars above
Call it what you want
I call it love
Blood runs high, and wrong or right