Apartment at dusk:
a grey Brooklyn sky,
a train that I’m missing.
A cheap travel mug
that leaks from the side,
damp coat and mittens.
If you don’t find a steady job now,
if you don’t find a steady job now.
Oh no.
If you don’t find someone to love now,
if you don’t find someone to love now.
Oh no.
You will die freezing cold and alone.
You will die freezing cold and alone.
They’ve got full blown homes.
They’re married with kids (and appliances.)
I’m doing dishes.
Alone in your car
heat doesn’t work.
Baby, we’re scramblin’.
If you don’t find a steady job now,
if you don’t find a steady job now.
Oh no.
If you don’t find someone to love now,
if you don’t find someone to love now.
Oh no.
You’re alone and you’re wet in a hospital bed
and your family and friends will inherit your debt
as you breathe from machines. Yeah, I know it sounds mean
but you’re probably gonna die alone.
If you don’t find a clock to punch now
or find yourself a steady f**k now.
Oh no.
Your family and friends will inherit your debt
and you’re probably gonna die alone.
Yeah, your family and friends will inherit your debt
and you’re probably gonna die alone.
