Written May 4, 2009


I am at the end of my rope

It's burning up my hands

Blisters are too many to count

The last straw is in the garbage

My drink is causing me to choke

My Witt's End had the wrecking ball to blame

I just need to get out of this place

My friend Bertha sung her heart out

Wilbur was just thrown in the air

Now pork is the only thing on the menu

I'm burnt out, I'm puking embers

My penny saved was just spent, and so am I

I need to cry

But my tears are too much work

I just need to get out of this place