Where does the money go?
I work, I toil, I bleed, I sweat;
But I have not one thing to show.

Maintaining highs but forever low,
I smoke, I fear, I fall, I fret;
Where does the money go?

Whichever way the wind does blow.
To myself I am in debt,
But I have not one thing to show.

An omnipresent malicious glow,
Resounding like a string quartet;
Where does the money go?

Perhaps I know...
Do I regret?
But I have not one thing to show.

Life's everlasting ebb and flow
Just goes to show how I forget-
Where does the money go?
But I have not one thing to show.