Sitting in circles counting our dimes
Holding tiny pieces of plastic close
To my heart, I say slow
To my mind, I say keep racing
We must hope to stumble upon a solution
We must hope

But these are quite hard times
And there is no face not morose
With my heart, I weep
With my mind, I catastrophize
Everything is really that terrible
It truly is

When one is so poor to dwell upon crimes
Little that is gained used to overdose
And I hope my heart stops beating
And I hope my mind quits thinking
This is not solving any problems
Tragedy of pauper