Folk Singer

The devil works hard but he doesn't work a nine to five
And he made drugs but he doesn't need them to feel alright
Just a kid barely keeping on the lights in their eyes
And I've killed myself a hundred ways, a hundred times

My neighbor bought a gun that he's not too scared to show
But he's too scared to talk to people he doesn't know
Came from a town where only the crabgrass grows
Oh, there's a mass murder column in the paper right next to prose

And I do feel bad about it but I don't wanna know
What I heard on the internet and on the radio
Maybe I'm too young to catch a break but I'm getting too old to throw
But that's just how it goes

Oh God, I think I'm slipping in the red again
Spending all this money I don't quite have yet
Am I a consumer or a Good Samaritan
Oh I'm gonna steal from the self-checkout line instead

And I do feel bad about it but I don't wanna know
What I heard on the internet and on the radio
Maybe I'm too young to catch a break but I'm getting too old to throw
But that's just how it goes

Now I don't feel bad about it when I got nothing to say
Are you not entertained
Folks don't have favorite songs of mine, they have favorite complaints
Are you not entertained
I'm just absorbing content like someone benefits from it

I'm just absorbing content like someone benefits from it
Don't think I've ever felt innocent
For my whole life I will pretend