25 cents at the end of the day
25 cents at the end of the day
25 cents at the end of the day
25 cents at the end of the...

Poor little babe was strolling around
When she realized she had 25 cents
In her gown
She kept all of that day
'Till it came to the end
where she sat on the bus to play
Poor little Jean didn't know nothing
'Till he took the sound from little Miss Nothing!
Damned! damned!
Gone little Nothing's brain!
Without her sound she was a battlefield for the voices now

Voices of past quotes and pieces of song
Voices of past quotes and pieces of song
Voices of past quotes and pieces of song
Voices of past quotes and pieces of...

Cried! Cried! Cried when the way
'Till her tears dropped on silver
With Nothing's quarter she stole another
And went down to the gates of Death
Hot humid and tumbling with clothes,
The office 'mat was stuffy and bleak
Boh Nothing got tongue stuck in cheek
As she slid her quarters through the fingers of Death for a 'nilla drink

Drink, drank, drink, drank
Drink drink drink
Drink, drank drank
Drank drunk

Tear stained and stuffed
Miss Nothing forgot those electrical wires
But then she wrote a poem

~Yeah, I'm angry. This is one of the few viciously angry poems I could ever write.

Background: Someone ripped my head phones
'Nilla?: Root beer....it solves just about every one of my issues... but I'll always be-