Ballad of Douglas Chin - Thee More Shallows

Oh, sleeping in the trees.

Traveling light, an unseen breeze.

I never really thought I’d get caught in that quad, but I was wrong.

Oh, I wanna get well

and find a skill I can sell.

Because no one buys what I try

to give away.

Trapped in the city.

No sleep, no more.

Just stay up yelling

at pimps and whores.

Whores?

And what for?

What for?

Is this art or war?

And who made

the part of my brain

that makes music

feel like pain?

«Go to bed whiteass!

Get straight!

Get a job!

You calling me crazy?

What’s your problem?

Are you lazy?

Disrespect me?

You gotta pay me.»