I hate the small square-footage, high-priced stores
That seem to be everywhere in New York
The $80 soy candles smell like shit $40 potpourri
Like it was picked by gods and not some opportunist lady
In her early 40s, named Sarah
That convinces herself month after month
That when it gets nice out, business will go up
Trash in the streets but you still pay 1500 for a closet and a bed
As long as I got a roof over my head, Im okay
You say to all your friends
Living like a hamster til you die
In a fuckin city that doesnt care about you now