So you’re paying and you're paying, dawn to dusk,
Know what I'm saying?
Life insurance, PPI,
But the debts just pile sky high,
Twenty-eight plus APR,
Another hundred for the car,
Buildings, contents, freezer foods,
Camera lenses, personal goods,
And the mortgage and the rent,
Early death is heaven sent,
Plus the taxes, they're the maxes,
Pension plans are just the axis,
Med insurance, dental plan,
Keep you working for the man,
Then there's Christmas and the hols,
All that mixing with the prols,
And air tickets and insurance,
Plus that flight delay endurance,
Diarrhoea, oh you're here,
Take your pills for gonorrhoea,
Watch your plastic,
Don't be spastic,
For the cost would be fantastic,
Did you lock the door back home?
Cement down each garden gnome?
Set the alarm to prevent harm?
Prep the neighbours with your charm?
And can you have another drink or will it take you to the brink?
'Cause you're taxed, completely maxed,
It's impossible to relax,
And, be honest, life just sucks,
But you're well and truly fucked,
So pack your bag and go back home,
Join the grind down to the bone,
But maybe not,
Just stop the rot,
Call a halt,
And just default.
Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved