Living like a modern day prostitute.
Going crazy in this mental institut-ion
of bills to pay. $9 an hour isn’t living wage. It’s living with the rage of a world that only costs more as I age.
I’ve given up the dreams of picket fences and love.
My dreams now consist of keeping my head well above
Water, debt and the weight of my depression
Attempting to appear happy in my state of recession
Weakness and defeat are not the impression
I want to rely on when the days seem too long
It’s all goin wrong
Or I’m simply just not feeling all that strong
Instead I sit back, reflect on my day
Guess I can call it a win
Pat my back, toot my horn
Prepare to whore myself again.