Theory of a deadman

So sick of the ^D hobos
Always beggin' for c ^A hange
I don't like ho ^G w I gotta work
And they just sit around and get ^D paid
I hate all of the ^D people
Who can't drive their ^A cars
Bitch you better get ^G out of the way
Before I, start falling ^D apart
I hate how my ^D wife
Is always up my ^A ass
She always wants to buy ^G brand new things
But I, don't have the ca ^D sh
(Refrain)
Well I hate my j ^A ob, all my rich friends
I hate everyone ^G to the bitter end ^D
Nothing turns out rig ^A ht, there's no end in s ^G ight
I hate my li ^D fe

How come I never get laid?
Nice guys always lose
How could she have another headache?
There's always some kind of excuse
I still hate my job
My boss is a dick
I don't get paid nearly enough
To put up with all of his shit
-(Refrain)-
-Musical Interlude-
I hate that I can't tell
When a girl's underage
And how when I tell her she's a nice piece of ass
Then her daddy punches me in the face
So if you're pissed like me
Bitches here's what you've gotta do
Put your middle fingers up in the air
Go on and say 'Fuck you'
-(Refrain)-
So much at stak ^A e
Can't catch a brea ^G k
I hate my li ^D fe
No there's nothing n ^A ew
And it sucks to be yo ^G u
I fucking hate my li ^D fe