Working here in my nine millionth job
I come closer to understanding it all

Walking through town today,
I see men I used to know
They belong here
I don’t

I have no mortgage, no kids
They have

Maybe I have balls, maybe I don’t
This time next year I’ll know

As Christmas approaches I say
next year’s gonna be my year
like all the others that weren’t

I leave behind the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known

With little more than survival money
and the wreck of a tragic split,
I bring regret and a kind of freedom
to new people

Domestica is a soul sucking poison

You’re cut out for it or you’re not

If you’re not, get out

Someone more suited to the job
will fill your shoes
in a heartbeat