She stands a target behind the counter.
And she burns a little more from every encounter.
Spit on, again and again, till her eyes are bloodshot.
Now, it's slowly sunken in.
"There's gotta be more to life than this."
She whispers under her breath as she pulls another double shift.
She's 21, a single mother of two.
This fuckin' dead end job, it barely buys enough food.
It's slowly killin' me, I gotta go.
'Cause I feel my blood pumpin' like a stereo.
I've kept it bottled up inside, but now it's gonna blow.
What are you gonna do, when it comes to you?
It's slowly killin' me, I gotta go.
Back in the van, back on the road.
Another town, another fucking show.
What are you gonna do when it comes to you?
10 years of fuckin' fast food.
I've been shot at twice and always talked down to.
Unappreciated, misunderstood,
Overwork, underpaid, doding bullets in the hood.
One thing I know is this life's not for me.
I can never be a functional member of society.
Only thing that's been keepin' me sane,
Is playin' these songs, 'cause it eases the pain.
It's slowly killin' me, I gotta go.
'Cause I feel my blood pumpin like a stereo.
I've kept it bottled up inside, but now it's gonna blow.
What are you gonna do, when it comes to you?
It's slowly killin' me, I gotta go.
Back in the van, back on the road.
Another town, another fucking show.
What are you gonna do when it comes to you?