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?