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