December 4th, 2024

Sick to death of scraping by a life
Give everyone three squares
The basic necessities
With all this corrupt policy
We might as well be paying to breathe

Debt from the treatment
Of a sprain from a sinkhole

The aldehyde smell of cash rubbed in every wrinkle

A mint of remedies
A hoard of expenses
Ripped from the headlines
Class traitor defenses

Our skin and bones, our limbs in clothes
Loose nails across our feet
Clever animals determined to find peace
God tells me that I wasn't worth the meat

Sick to death of scraping by a life

The aldehyde smell of cash rubbed in every wrinkle

Debt from the treatment
Of a sprain from a sinkhole

The aldehyde smell of cash rubbed in every wrinkle

Sick to death of scraping by a life