He failed his p test too many times
The visible iceberg of his petty crimes
No more to drive the comfortable rig
They gave him a shovel and told him to dig
Thirty years later he's always in trouble
Hid in his hard hat a baggie and bubble
Home to his TV, alone with the masses
It's enough to fog up your safety glasses
Dark in the morning he locks up the door
She doesn't even wake up anymore
He stops at the deli and buys him a beer
"What are you doing, you can't drink that here."
"What do you care, there's no one to see
Nobody here but your camel and me"
"You get me in trouble, get out of my store."
He puts down the empty and walks out the door
The sunrise is bloodshot he waits for the bus
That's coming someday to pick up all of us