Through this day, I'm spinning out of control
Crashing into my fate in the form of a dead soul
And I'm praying to some God I don't believe in
Trying to make all my wrongs right as I'm sitting out on the corner, holding a can made of tin
They see me as a ghost
Thinking I have it better then most

Going broke
My home is under the branches of an Oregon White Oak
The fire's dying
Everyday I'm trying
The men in the suits
Don't give a **** that I'm living in a cave of roots

This is the future that's now not so clean and clear
Darling, I know a home seems so far away, a light year
But we can stick this out
Sometime we'll have rain, no longer a drought
Just stay with me another night
For tomorrow, we'll get up and fight.