To be honest with you gunman, i don’t blame you sir and
I’m gonna tell you why in this nifty little poem.
I wake up, walking through Wall-Mart with a full cart,
of shit that i don’t need and in a week will’ve fallen apart.
I lost track of reality,I don’t know how i got here,
But where else in the world can you buy yourself a beer, a rifle, some fish tanks, slacks and a new hat
all from sweat shops, living conditions worse then Borat
But looks like I don’t care, this is 85% off
Im walking out the store but my path has been cut off,
by a man standing by my van, who just got cut off,
of unemployment and the State has haled his son off.
And just like me, this man isn’t thinking off the people he hurts,
right now he needs some money and its me whose about to get murked.
Longer story short Im walking home in the pouring rain, thinking in my mind of all the pain since Wall-Mart came.