Not Another Day

[Verse 1] Caught the bus at 5:06 That's in the AM for all you little trust fund kids And it's a forty-five minute trip If she ain't in by six, she'll catch another pink slip And that's three and that means fired The coffee thermos in the purse to help her keep wired The day-care where she drops the baby off Thank god it's on the same block as the bus stop By 5:30, she's halfway there And her back already hurts from the bus' plastic chair Live to work to live to work to live Gotta feed the kid and give it all she's got to give Plus she tryna catch a little overtime If she stays till four she could be home by five Shuts her eyes for the rest of the route And keeps her headphones loud to drown everything out But the same old song... [Hook] "Whoa... whoa, not another day!" Not another day of the same old song "Whoa... whoa, not another day!" Not another day of the same old song [Verse 2] Seemed like nobody even knew his name, huh If he disappeared would they even see the blank spot? The only kids who might notice are the ones who Push him up and down the hallways and in the lunchrooms Sometimes he looks at his bruises and wants to come to school with A gun like them kids on the news did But nah man they don't deserve to die He's the type that couldn't even murder a fly I guess you get used to the life Maybe that's why he refuses to cry Takes it on the chin, takes it in stride What doesn't break you just makes you stronger right? So he sits by himself on the school bus Hoping that today he wouldn't have to put his dupes up But just like any other, here they come To fuck with his comfort, can't wait for summer It's the same old song... [Hook] [Verse 3] C'mon, woke up at the taste of dawn When the city's bloodline starts to push it along The generators on those public buses Is enough to bust you out of any dream that you stuck in I guess that's the chance you taking When you camp out in front of that transfer station And this town got no answers to chase That's why he always sleeps near the transportation Panhandle it, transient freedom Transplant, he ain't from this region And when the wind starts to whisper its lips He knows enough to pack it up and dip out before the winter hits Childhood dreams washed down the gutter Both parents gone, no sisters, no brothers Weak memories, strong paranoia While the same song repeats in his head Over and over and over and over it goes... [Hook] {X2}