Brickwall - Fred Thomas

Six pack, thirty rack, brick wall

I’m gonna drink them all

I hate myself in a way

I hate myself every day

Flag flights, blue and white, red stripe

The animals are right, there’s got to be another way

There’s got to be a better way

But you don’t really talk to him now

He’s just a costume that you once wore

You don’t really talk to him now

Don’t think about him 'til you’re falling on the floor

And crawling on the floor

No, you don’t really talk anymore

Don’t really talk anymore

You spend your time

Looking at books about New York from the 1990s

But you know it’s not the same anymore

It’s not the same anymore

And all your friends, every single one of them

They’re unavailable

They’re obsessed with taking pictures of their children

They’ve got one foot out the door

They were born with one foot out the door