My woman and I, and a friend from East High,
We moved to the city, where ugly is pretty.
Where fancy is shitty, and towers scrape sky.
My woman and me, and a little kitty,
We live by a landfill, trash under a hill,
And daily, still the smell comes at 3.
The four of us sleep in two rooms that creep,
The floor makes sound when we're not around,
And we're steeped in bills that can't be found.
We went for a walk, and a bit of a talk,
And in an empty lot, in a plain looking spot,
We did not expect an old condom by a rock.
This place is a mess, it's gross and it's dense.
The tap tastes like bleach, but his own to each.
I love every breach, and I love every stench.