On Being Poor in America

I have nothing but bread and mayo

In my fridge

And my skinny dog looks good enough to eat

Right about now

I am so broke, I want to holler

Can’t even make sense with two pennies

In my pocket

I am starvin’ but I am proud

To sell what’s left of my possessions

And soon, the rent will be due

And my bank account is in the negative

If I don’t get som’ money soon

I’m goin’ to take a gun

And make a bank run

Jus’ to make some bread

And stop the creditors

Yankin’ me to prison

And my crime is jus’ being poor

But in America, it’s reality

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