The Hangdogs meet me at tommy's I hear you're living with some pasty post-punk Brit And that every martini bar in Soho thinks you're the shit They say we got lives to live, so let's burn this fucking bridge Cast the ash upon the water and drink until we forget Meet me down at Tommy's for one last round, toast the asshole you made of me We can fire up the juke, play a Hangdogs song, so I can regain some self-esteem Meet me down at Tommy's we can close it down and you can give me back my key I want to see you one last time, then just a blur where you used to be Smoke cigars and spout your angst-filled free-verse poetry Hell, girl, it ainšt what you say, it's what they see I hear you're hanging with the hippest of crowds Hear you spout Kerouac and dress real seventies to do any poseur proud Good luck with your new nose-ring, and if you ever want more than the latest thing I'll be down at Tommy's drinking Pabst and playing loud CHORUS I want to see you one last time, then just a blur where you used to be