i feed the cats, they do nothing for me.
just fucking whine and complain a lot,
and feign disgust at the glow of tv.
it's a cold hearted caveat
i scratch their ears and they sink in their teeth.
though overwhelmed by the stink of it,
i clean their shit up
before i take off for work in the morn.

i feed the rats, and the roaches,
and these are just the vermin i know about
and this old dog she's been losing her teeth.
it's so sad they grow up so fast
her body's old, overrun with disease
i stick the pills down her throat and then,
she spits 'em up again... as if to say "let me die."
as if saying "please let me die."

the alarm's off and then i'm headed off to work again.
from the pounding in my head,
to the notes left on your desk,
i think i'm cracking from the stress.
and you're greeted by the creeps in the street,
and they treat you like a piece of meat.
the fucking assholes in the bars,
driving drunk home in their carsÂ…
i walk their dogs around the parkÂ…

i feed the cats, they do nothing for me,
just fucking whine, but i'm used to it.
the difference is with the creeps on the street
there's no excuse but the truth is that
i find scum wherever i lay my feet,
i'm picking fleas off the dog and then
you're mopping up again,
cleaning up the puke of the damnedÂ…
it's simply how we learned how to live in this land.