Summer Of Our Discontent

"Oh, I really hate this place," she said Putting on her makeup by the unmade bed Mascara for the lonely want Call our waitress "honey" then they tip with ones The summer of our discontent Every dollar earned was already spent Bitter sweat and circumstance Layaway dreams, choked on first breath A little bit of suffering's Just what you need to sweeten things Remind you of what's good, and pure A little suffering might cure ya'