So I’m not cool enough to sit at the table with you
And all those who you so proudly declare your “friends”
Yeah well when you were thirteen and got viciously dumped
I didn’t see them sitting besides you all of that night
And all of the next day
And hand you tissues

Well guess what
When this crowd dumps you
You won’t be cool enough to sit with me
And my friends

So go ahead and party on their yachts
And go to parties without those who matter
And pour the liquor down your throat
Don’t stop at six bottles, there is so much more
And let the drunken boys fondle you
Because no one else is sane enough too
Make sure you laugh at me in the hallways
And trip me in the lunchroom
Tell them secrets that the spirits don’t know
And make my face a crimson mass of burning flesh
And don’t feel bad when tears fall down my face

So screw you and your fucked up friends
Fucked up artificial friends
Because I don’t need you
I’ve got friends who don’t lie to me when they say they care
I’ve got friends who don’t elude me when I need them most
I’ve got friends who will be the softness that I fall onto
I’ve got friends.

Too bad I can’t say the same for you.

 
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