You picked me up in your beat-up Jeep Back when my problems were ankle-deep We played Green Day way too loud And flipped off preps in every crowd We said we'd never sell our souls But you got married, and I lost control Now I’m stuck here in this Walmart town Still trying to turn my life around (next Tuesday, probably) I still owe you gas money From that road trip to L.A. And a burnt CD you hated But you played it anyway Yeah, we were dumb and kind of broke Made bad decisions just for jokes You grew up — I grew sideways But I still think about those Fridays And I still owe you gas money... (Plus like 50 bucks for Taco Bell) You got a job that pays you right I’m still door dashing every night You’ve got a kid, a grill, a lawn I’ve got a roommate named Dijon (he’s a raccoon, don’t ask) You post pics from your Disney cruise I post memes and conspiracy news But I’d trade all this modern stress For a night in that Jeep and a little less mess ‘Cause I still owe you gas money And probably an apology For throwing up on your cousin’s shoes At that party in ‘03 We were legends in our own dumb heads With fake IDs and bunk twin beds You moved on — I’m still rewinding But man, those years were kinda blinding And I still owe you gas money... (And probably a new floor mat, too) If you ever roll through this nowhere town I’ll buy the beer and drive you ‘round We’ll blast old songs and scream off-key Pretend we’re still seventeen I still owe you gas money But more than that, I swear I owe you every dumb mistake And every time you cared Yeah, we grew up, and that’s just fine But I’ll still text you “remember that time?” Thanks for the miles and all the trouble Your friendship's worth at least... double Even if I still owe you gas money (...and maybe like emotional support forever)