I thought you were hot.
You thought I was gay.
You were three years older than me anyway.
I wonder where you are.
I can't remember your name.
I wonder if you'd like me now.
I wonder if you still look the same.
Punk rock girl on the back of the bus, I love you still.
I've got a house and a white collar job,
happily married with three little kids.
I wonder if you still listen to The Exploited.