[Heavy, driving rock guitar riff with a aggressive bassline] [Front-and-center vocals that are crystal clear, high definition, and sharp presence] I’ve survived career crashes, complete financial ruin, and family fucking hell, Been through medical nightmares, reckless bad decisions, and survived it all to tell. Back in my wild "crazy daze," I swallowed enough lethal goddamn heat To keep a fucking Clydesdale awake all night and knock a hippo off its feet! I’ve faced down real disasters, walked the edge of every cliff— So why the fuck am I losing my goddamn mind over this leather piece of shit? (Verse 1) [Front-and-center vocals that are crystal clear, high definition, and sharp presence] Seventy-two fucking years old, you'd think I'd have a shred of goddamn sense, Instead, I’m ripping up the goddamn house, enraged and fucking tense! Cross-examining my family like criminals, screaming at the walls, Losing a whole night’s sleep over forty fucking bucks some asshole gets to call Their lucky break today—holding up my goddamn souvenir past, My Trump International Realty card from days that couldn't last. I kept the fucking card for fun, now it's gone to hell, And just typing the word "was" makes my blood fucking boil and swell! (Chorus) [Heavy drums and explosive guitar chords] [Front-and-center vocals that are crystal clear, high definition, and sharp presence] I don't want a goddamn replacement, I don't give a single fuck! I want that specific fucking wallet, not some new piece of luck! Cancel all the goddamn cards, re-issue the fucking license too, There wasn't enough cash in there to ruin my retirement, it's true! It doesn't mean a fucking thing, mathematically it's clear, But I am fucking broken by this small square piece of gear! (Verse 2) [Front-and-center vocals that are crystal clear, high definition, and sharp presence] Drove my son to physical therapy, paid with my fucking card right there, Hit McDonald's on the way home—fresh McNuggets, didn't leave my chair. I never stepped inside the joint, so it didn't drop on their fucking floor, Then hit the goddamn Walgreens and called them up to check the store. The useless kid on the phone said no one turned a wallet in, So I assumed he didn't give a fuck or check a single bin! Drove back down myself, searched the place, absolute fucking zero, Which leaves the goddamn car—my favorite place to play the zero. (Bridge) [Music strips down to a pounding, angry drumbeat and fuzzy bassline] [Front-and-center vocals that are crystal clear, high definition, and sharp presence] Spent three fucking hours on my knees, my back, sweating in the heat, A two-hundred-dollar detail crew couldn't match my fucking rage under the seat. I dug up ancient, disgusting trash from beneath the floor mat grid: Two mummified french fries, half a stale fucking cashew, a Kiss wrapper lid, Twenty-seven goddamn cents in change, a mini Milk-Bone bone, An intact Frito, a gas receipt from when two-nineteen was known, Some random woman's lipstick... and an old XXXL Trojan condom I used to own. WHERE THE FUCK IS MY WALLET?! (Chorus) [Full explosive band, max energy] [Front-and-center vocals that are crystal clear, high definition, and sharp presence] I still ain't got my fucking wallet, and I don't give a fuck! I want that cheap leather bastard back, I don't want no new luck! Cancel all the plastic shit, issue another driver's ID, It won't ruin my retirement, I know that logically! It shouldn't mean a goddamn thing in the grander scheme of years, But a small piece of leather has brought a seventy-two-year-old man to fucking tears! (Outro) [Guitar feedback, heavy breathing, trailing off angrily] [Front-and-center vocals that are crystal clear, high definition, and sharp presence] Fossil fries and old Trojan rubbers... Twenty-seven fucking cents... And no goddamn wallet. Fuck this car. [Guitar slashes hard, abrupt stop]
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