I'm sittin' in the back of my mom's new car
While she's fightin' with my sister 'bout a school she wants
She turns the music down and lets the windows shut
And I hear them both tear up
I'm sittin' in the back, I watch the rearview mirror
She keeps her eyes on the road, but her fist's in the air
Says: I'm tired of bein' broke, and I said: So am I
And then she says it a second time

This is how it is
I'm sorry

I used to fight my mom for smokin' cigarettes
And in the car she killed a pack of 'em
When the last of what you like is putting death in your hands
In this momеnt I understand
When the last of what you like is putting death in your throat
In this moment I stop makin' jokes

This is how it is
I'm sorry