I bitch about people texting and driving
Then rev my engine and break the speed limit.
What the hell is the difference?
We’re all sharing road space and acting like jackasses in it.
When I’m walking down the city streets
If I see someone hurting or down on their luck
Then I’ll stop and I’ll give them short change or directions
But I obviously don’t give a fuck.
Because if I did I would stay and console them,
I would give them my clothes, big bills or car keys
But I only touch their life so briefly
Because I’m so bitter that no one is helping me.
Man, I always gotta help people.
Why the fuck I gotta be so nice?
Cause I don’t believe in life after death
But I do believe in paradise.
But all the same I have no faith in humanity,
And I don’t believe we are capable of change.
But I still try and I trudge to be a better person
When the thought of being better is so backwards and strange
To a bunch of people who live in houses
While a bigger bunch of people live and die on the street.
See I’m doing it now: because I’m one of those people
Who has more than their fair share to eat.
Isn’t it funny? Aren’t I pretentious?
I try to tell people what their problems are
Because I know a little bit about human nature,
When I don’t even meet my own bar.
I might tell you you’re shit for being a coward,
For running away from your troubles.
But then I hide in my room and I lock all my doors
Because I’m afraid to leave my own bubble.
Hypocrisy is something I preach against
But then I go home and I tell my kid
That’s she’s not allowed to do or say the things
That I do or did myself.
I tell my jobless friends to throw away their
Fears of public speaking. What a bunch of shit.
I hate public speaking too: yeah, I’m a hypocrite.