An upbeat but haunted rock song follows our jilted narrator from an empty theater to a deserted Delancey Street. Other than the voices that mock, "now you know who your real friends are," there are only the serrated guitars, the jittery pulse of electronic percussion, and the manic flute performed by Country Girl's Maurice Goldberg. What has happened here? Friendzoned, ghosted, our singer is still alone as the chorus crashes, still alone as art pop strings flourish in the coda: “Everything’s exactly as it seems. Now I know who my real friends are. It's the models and the movie stars. Kill the mic and let the credits roll.
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