i'm not angry i'm a no good piece of sh*t
i hear that everyday, it just rolls off my back
left out frustrated no one to talk to
alone with the thoughts in my head
the people i respect knock me down,
so i sit like a piece of garbage washed up on the curb
and it's funny in a place where one in ten have no money
i hear only one in ten encouraging words
"yeah the wisemen don't know sh*t, it's a poor f**k like me on the streets i got it all figured out"
said an old man p**s drunk on a wednesday
a smile from his dirty toothless mouth
made me smile
and he asked me for a smoke and some change
a cigarette was all i had to give
i sat around watching cars thinking stupid f**king thoughts about
my friends and my girl and my school and myself
and i wished i could go drinking
where no one knew my name and i didn't know anyone else
i sat alone bored accomplishing nothing
another summer day, more thrown away sunshine
"now don't be offended and don't curse me out,
but i'm starving and i sure could use your dimes"
i looked up at a young man not much older than me
gave him a dollar and a smoke and some time
he said "i fought for uncle sam and now he won't fight for me
he threw me out when i was done serving time
i said i wouldn't go into special forces and kill
he said 'then stay out on the streets and f**king die'"
yeah there's two kinds of prisons
some say one where you're locked up and everythings outside
and another where you're outside and everything is locked away.