A heart that's made of gold,
a pure and gentle soul.
He compliments your style
from behind an awkward smile.
He never fails to pay,
and you think he might be gay,
but you know you can't deny
when you look into his eyes
that he might just be
a nice guy.
Going it alone,
they are the champions of the friend zone,
mastering the art of walking drunk girls home.
With a kiss on the cheek he's left to walk it home alone
still sending smileys to her phone.
And they'll always come through,
when you need a chariot to whisk you to that thing you do.
Their balls will remain forever blue.
They'd carry your shit from here to Timbuktu
if you ask them to.
They're the ones you never see,
but you know they'll always be
awkward with their hands,
why you'll never understand.
He'll offer you his jacket
even though you didn't ask for it.
He longs for your embrace
and your butt on his face.
They'll always be around
in their undying quest to turn that frown upside down,
the celebrated mayors of masturbation town.
Their summer '99 mix tapes are world renowned,
they bring the house down.
Because nice guys don't finish last, no, they finish second
to some guy named Chad.
Nice guys will never know that the way to go
is to act like a complete asshole,
and the bitches will overflow.
But still they give, give, give--
Summoning all their might to twist and open that lid,
waiting by the phone for as long as they live,
they wanna be your BF but they'll settle for BFF
their emotions adrift.
But boy you're great.
Your chance will fly by if you choose to wait.
Just go ask her on a fucking date.
One day you will reach home plate.

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