When you're riding around on the longboard I bought you, I hope it hits a curb
and I hope you bite your tongue when you fall,
and I hope some nasty old lady yells at you for taking up the whole sidewalk with your sprawl,
and I hope her cute dog growls at you while your board turns to splinters under the wheels of a U-Haul truck.
And when you finally make it to work, bruised and battered,
I hope your mean boss Tony yells at you and threatens to fire you,
and when you look to your nice boss Hoyt to defend you he just shrugs and says,
"well, you were late."
And on your way home, when you pass my apartment,
you'll think what those things that I said from my heart meant,
and you'll miss me and think about all of your time spent
in the best way possible, with me, and you'll buzz,
and no one will answer because I'm out having fun without you.
And I hope when you're home and you've lit up a joint,
you will feel that familiar stir in your loins,
I hope at this point it'll set in how life sucks without me.
But despite it all and above it all and most of all,
I hope you're happy with your choice.