Wait you know who Frankie Muniz is right?

Fully packed minivans, stocked with Half-finished soda cans
 I'm sitting here on my back porch like "where the fuck are you peter pan?"
 You were a sight for sore eyes, and mine are still healing
 Jean jackets with too many patches and coffee breath in the morning
 What the fuck am I doing with my life?
 I'll get back to you on that in two more years
 Tell me the same old story again
 You still don't even know my name
 So why should I smile and address you by yours?
 I'll never grow up and be like you
 I'll pull my own plug before I get even a single slice of liver on my plate
 What am I doing with my life you ask?
 I'll get back to you on that in two more years.
 Heartbreak isn't a hierarchy
 We all get fucked in the end just the same