Six pack, thirty rack, brick wall,
I'm gonna drink 'em all.
I hate myself in a way,
I hate myself every day.
Flag flights, blue and white, red stripe,
The animals are right.
There's got to be another way,
There's got to be a better way.
But you don't really talk to him now,
He's just a costume that you once wore.
You don't really talk to him now,
Don't think about him 'til you're falling on the floor,
And crawling on the floor.
No, you don't really talk anymore,
Don't really talk anymore.
You spend your time,
Looking at books about New York from the 1990's,
But you know it's not the same anymore,
It's not the same anymore.
And all your friends,
Every single one of them,
They're unavailable,
They're obsessed with taking pictures of their children,
They've got one foot out the door,
They were born with one foot out the door.
And you don't really talk to them now,
You're like a postcard that they can hang.
You don't really talk to them now,
Unless they call you to lethargically complain,
To make fun of the old gang.
No, you don't really talk anymore,
Don't really talk anymore.
You don't really talk anymore,
Don't really talk anymore.
One time,
I remember,
You told me I was like a child that's too smart for the lesson,
But still didn't learn anything,
You were my boyfriend then.
Six pack, thirty rack,
When are you gonna come back?
Come back and be my boyfriend again,
Come back and be my boyfriend again,
Come back and be my boyfriend again,
Come back and be my boyfriend again,
Come back and be my boyfriend again.