Slap happy drunk at three AM,
On a cold bicycle by Turlington.
A blue backpack and a bottle of gin,
With a friend, I used to know.
I swear I don't care to catch myself,
In new dorm rooms, with someone else.
Next to Fletcher Hall,
Where you spent your last semester.
Polo shirts, and slurring words,
It's a tragic waste, of what we were...
Was all respected,
As the sad and restless,
With no real perspective in the end.
You were queen of the boys club,
I'm a sucker for that bad love,
And I know just how this thing begins.
Slap happy drunk at three AM,
On a cold bicycle by Turlington.
Midtown bars,
And party drug scars.
You roll Swisher Sweets,
In the back of my car.
With blue fingertips,
And cherry red lips,
On a can of PBR.
I can find your room
While half awake,
Your two roommates
Were on Spring Break,
And I swear we didn't even do a thing,
But get real high and laugh.
Final terms, but we never learned,
It's a tragic waste,
Of what we were...
Was all respected,
As the sad and restless,
With no real perspective in the end.
You were queen of the boys club,
I'm a sucker for that bad love,
And I know just how this thing begins.
Slap happy drunk at three AM,
On a cold bicycle by Turlington.
We were peeling off that summer skin,
We'd sneak away and lie to your friends,
The poster child, for this lost generation...
Was all respected,
As the sad and restless,
With no real perspective in the end.
You were queen of the boys club,
I'm a sucker for that bad love,
And I know just how this thing begins.
Slap happy drunk at three AM,
On a cold bicycle by Turlington.