beach bums

Nowhere to go, nowhere to run, I'm on my own
Some fucking bum, some fucking bum
He can hit my line, but it'll waste my time
If I could kiss your lies and call that dust
You tried to change my mind, it's quite alright
I might've lied instead of doing drugs, fine

I just lost my job, and I don't think I'm doing well at all
Waiting for you to call, give me an answer, anything at all
When you feel sick, you'll be coming on back
Just because I'm filthy rich
You'll be coming on back when you see that I'm filthy rich

So broke, I lost my job, and I can't pay my car note (yeah)
My piggy bank is empty, broken by my bedside
I need a wishing well because I'm so stuck in this living hell
I'll check my bank, and now I'm not feeling well
Eviction notice in the mail, I had to tell them that I need more time
Odd jobs, scraping by, getting paid by the dime
Clock out, then I'm on the road to another fine, fine
One, two, three, four

I lost my job (and I don't think I'm doing well at all)
I hate my boss (give me an answer, anything at all)
When you feel sick, you'll be coming on back
Just because I'm filthy rich
When you're crawling right back, I'm sittin' there, filthy rich