oh yeah, PITY THIS!!!

Look, all I'm saying is that if I get a job, it'll kill me

I am just starting to heal

If I subject myself to the baseline exploitation that's demanded of every living person

It'll quickly become apparent just how weak I am

I can't learn to love myself only to let my requirement to have a job and still be impoverished take it all away

My money's running out I'm not so sure if I can handle

Things are getting so bad that I need to burn the decor candles

And in a couple days well that won't even been an option

I guess my room will smell like weed until I'm kicked out this apartment

Well oh well I'll lay in bed and pack another bowl