Trouble
and I can’t drag
two-hundred bucks
outta my bank account
What bank account
and I can’t drag
a hundred bucks
outta the old man’s bank account
What bank account
and I can’t drag
fifty bucks outta my
best friend’s bank account
What best friend
Trouble
is not my middle name
my middle name is
busted
my last name is
broke
and my first name is
flat
Flat god-damn Busted Broke
And ain’t life just grand
in Donald Trump’s America
which is
America the Same
24/7
all the time
doesn’t matter
who’s squatting
in the White House
Ain’t my house
It is
my America
every 50 states of it
and territories
like Samoa
and I resent
that with all this real-estate
I can’t drag
two-hundred bucks
outta my non-existent
bank account.
After a brush with the grim reaper at age seven, Richard Wells sat down at his family’s Remington, and started his autobiography. In one form or another, that’s all he’s been writing ever since, and he’s now 73.
Great one, OG! Thanks for the dedication!