-trailer trash rashes-

Barefoot, dirt-washed faces-
born without privileges, holes in pockets
I wish I had two pennies to offer you,
one for your thoughts, another to be ungrateful for

There is always more to what you already know,
always more questions, no answers, only reasons-
Ask me your question, "Is this all there is to life?",
I wouldn't know, I haven't had a life

Scratch, Scratch, Scratch-
at those trailer trash rashes,
as situations become sticky and itchy
Like the birthday suits we were born in

Everybody's a murderer,
I've seen the blood on the hands of a gentlemen,
and ugly words from the mouth of lady
The whole world's living in death row