Another round of all four seasons
Still win a chill setting deep
My pockets growin' weaker
My youth seems out of reach
I'm sick of all this labor
Least it keeps me off the streets
My lungs are full of fever
My head is in retreats
I'm scared by all these crooks
Carving footprints while I sleep
I spent my time shopping through windows
Spend my money being cheap
In spite all that I ?
Sometimes I call it a tag(?)
A storm will be alright, I'm wet