The closest thing I've had to food today is beer
With a little bit of whiskey there and here
Scotch that has been aged for 12 good years
The liquid helps to hide my salted tears

Burning through my packs of smokes
more often than a bull frog croaks
And telling all my stale jokes
at bars to all the wasted folks

An open mic to spew my lines
with wasted words at wasted times
And sure, it's fun, but makes no dimes
I'm broke and sad and skipping fines

My art won't get me anywhere
But it's okay. Now, I don't care
It got me here, it got me there
Guess that's enough, the money's rare

I'll flip a burger, fry some fries
Ring up your clothes, I'll rub your thighs
My dreams and goals were only lies
I guess it's time to compromise