Under the Affluence - Dangers

Couch surfing will break your back

And there’s not one night

In ten lonely years

That she’s gone to sleep

In her bed upstairs

It’s piled high with clothes

That no longer fit

Old christmas gifts

With tags still affixed

She sleeps on the couch

And she dreams like a slave

Dreams of her mortgage

It’s jaws clamped round her vertebrae

She’s hollow

She’s dying

She’s menopause-ing away

Hey there, good looking

What’s that microwave got cooking

For you and me tonight?

‘Cause it seems like

You just might

Stick your salt and pepper head inside

That you might scream

That you might

Die just like Sylvia

Die as a slave

Die a single mother

A bleak divorcee

Dig under her affluence and this is what you’ll find:

Five beds, four baths, three kids, do the math

Just debt, regret, empty nest, a broken back

I was not worth throwing away all of your dreams