Lowlife Trilogy

I am a Lowlife

Home ain't home.

Not for me.

Not for my wife or dog,

or daughter Lucy.

The bed is rented.

The TV is broken.

Dog poop everywhere,

in the hall a crackhead is smokin'

This ain't home.

It's where I sleep.

I made my bed

I'm just another creep

She is a Lowlife

She thought I was lying-

and I was.

She thought I was dying-

and I was.

She did nothing for me-

as she smiled

She could of saved me-

that's not her style.

Lowlife Mantra

I don't have a racist bone in my body

But I may have a few racist hairs

I say this all the time on the bus

To my surprise, nobody really cares