Sockhead

Just got back from Philly It's 2 a.m I wonder how you're holding up at your sister's house We stopped by a record store on our way there You didn't say much, things were going through your head Your brothers are in Delaware And you're alone in the city, near your mother's house The one you called a second home I'm sorry that she's gone, we don't have to talk about it But you know you're always welcome to stay here in the basement We listen to Weezer, I put in Pinkerton Rivers Cuomo understands the situation We celebrate your birthday two days ahead Smoked a bunch of pot so you could get these thoughts out of your head But you let them in And what's the point of being in a punk rock band without your best friend? He always wears that stupid hat I don't know what it's like under that sockhead Cancer is a bitch, now I play this show alone He turns 19 years old today at his mother's funeral Just got off the phone with him and he's doing okay Safe in Philadelphia with his Philly cheesesteaks Cancer is a bitch, just like your ex-girlfriend What's the point of punk rock if you don't have your best friend?