Well, time’s up.
We’ve been at this for quite a while now.
I think that it has been firmly established
and now we can safely say you are the bads.
You’re the real bads.

We’ve talked it through; I’ve looked at you
from every possible angle. I don’t have to tangle
with you anymore, looking for a way to find
your good side. There isn’t one.

There isn’t something sweet that makes you
"worth my time." I’m ready to drop you on a dime.
I wish I’d done this in my prime. Finally, here, I’m
saying it’s over. Goodbye. If you’re not ready, well, I
am sorry. It doesn’t matter, but I’m sorry.

I hope you have a good life, lacking any strife,
except I really don’t care. Go anywhere. I swear
it makes no difference to me. You’re the bads and I see
you’re irrelevant now and from this moment I vow
I need no longer pretend to contend with any trend you commend.

Why? Because you’re the bads, my ex-friend. You’re the real gone bads.