I’ve got this friend.
He’s gone through all bad shit and never was his mistake.
He falls for a girl who’s never found love.
Only to find pieces of boring conversation and the agony.
He’s a real life version of Mr. Pinkman.
Without the gun, and without the fun.
He’s gone to therapist but never found any.
He’s singing 505 to the horizon, don’t tell any.
Trying to take back his throne.
Someday at midnight silence, maybe he’ll get one.
He’ll toast the champagne, and you’ll throw him the sunshine.
If that is happiness, you want him to have it.
Just one last ride to that sunset.
If that is happiness, you want him to have it.
Just one last ride to that cliché.
He’s a real life version of Mr. Pinkman.
Without the gun, and without the fun.