It's such a shame, it seems like such a waste,
You've been hanging out with Grace and her bad-tase-face-mates,
I'll meet you there, and we can make our way,
Down to the wine parade, where the marching band plays.
Don't get me wrong you know, I really don't mind
I hear they're treating you fine,
And you know me and Emily never meant to lose touch,
Hell we miss you so much.
You're such a waste, it seems like such a shame,
You should have seen the smile on your third grade face,
Through twists and bends, we've always been the best of friends,
Now Emily's strung out and the marching bands too loud.
I'm sure that you had met before, I don't deny they knew you first,
It's just we fell one hundred times deeper, harder, under your curse,
The curse that promises such warmth,
The curse that turns so awful cold,
The spell that cuts you at your knees,
The spell that breeds so much disease.