Most people probably think
That I'm fucking crazy
For choosing a life
That will bring us no fruits
But maybe wealth
Is nothing more than a fallacy
It's rice and beans for dinner
On a table for two

And I will bring my labor
Straight to that table
Right after I build it
I'll get to it soon
And what's for lunch
Besides all of this judgement
I get from these assholes
Guess they've got a sweet tooth

I'm just a softie dressing hard
I'll show you just what I'm made of
With bad lyrics in a boring song

Instead of praying
I'll be counting my blessings
I harvest myself
Because God thinks I'm a lost cause
I hope one day
Santa brings me some gifts again
I could use some new strings on my shitty guitar
I don't know
What these assholes problems are
I think I've been quite a kick-ass guy
So far
Or maybe not

I'm just a softie dressing hard
I'll show you just what I'm made of
With bad lyrics in a boring song