Scumbag

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River Bigby

4:53

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Woke up monday morning
With a bad back
Head full of piss
Thinking f*ck that
I'm not coming in
Called my boss up sick
He said you're sacked
You little shit
I rolled a spliff
And drank a tin
And it sank in
Early weekend
Finally found the pause
To wonder through the cause
Of all the problems lately
Whats life if it's all hazy maybes
It seems I'm never sure
Of anything at all
Except that monday to friday
Is someone else's chores
Slapped on my bag
Went on a walk
To spend my last four bucks
At the liquor store
I came up short buying four more
Then I called my landlord
She said I'm gone
Monday morn' I'm out the door
So I I stumbled out the stairs
To staring eyes
Without a care
My middle fingers in the air
To the billionaires
I lit a smoke in hopes it blows
Underneath their nose
And they choke
On the words
They hold in their throats
In their eyes
I'm a scumbag
But in mine
I'm not half bad
I can't hide
And when they decide
I'm a scumbag
Well I don't mind
Here's where we divide
See things from different sides
Seen in different times
Lived in my own life
Lived underneath lies
All I see are boys
Walk in and out of bottle brothels
Disguised as liquor stores
My hands are shaky
I'm the fucking bum
Who begs for change at the door
And their eyes scream ice-cream
I scream
Don't wait up for us you cheap little whore
The boys are getting lit
So I pull the brim of my cap down
And puff past them on another walk
Through a neon billboard boulevard pasted in arrangement
Sloppily as f*ck
To feel as if I need their version of shit
Like I ain't broke enough as a fucking bum
And now I'm begging for change
Out front of the bar
Where the girls just dance on tabletops
And their titties jiggle
As the coins dribble in drips
From the tip of some drunk cunts crutch
Crucify me if I'm wrong
Coz I'm a martyr
I'll be strung up
But I don't need a cross
I just need a buck or a bud
Or someone to give me a hug
And the amber torch traffic lights fade out
Into the sunlit room
And the spotlight turns
To all the red light boys
In their sports cars
With some thing big to prove
Does anyone else notice
That when the sunroofs down
They all wear matching suits
Their glint and glaze in my eyes
Is double vision
And it just seems like proof
That these glutinous pigs feed off of us
And make us eat from their crumbs
And smoke their fucking ciggy butts
Like I'm ok with a life of hazy maybes
Where the only time anyone really opens up
Is for a handout
Or to rip me off
And they bust their nuts
All on the chins of the bankrupt bums
With corrupt uppercuts
So f*ck these coin sluts
I'll sing songs on the side of this street
Underneath their neon signs
That beg me to feast
When I ain't even got enough for a feed
And I ain't hungry either
I lay back on that bed of cardboard and paper
That reads something ironic about immigration
The homeless art installation
An aboriginal man without a home in his own nation
Lays his bed back in the train station
Walked by by the monday men like pavement
And I look wasted

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