In heaven somewhere an angel will quit
Each time that cashier has to scan all my shit;
She’s got lymph-edema, about 88
Pillhead to support – he’s home sleeping late.
O Wal-Mart, O Wal-Mart how can I describe
This feeling I feel when I go deep inside?
The eyes of your greeters are pools of despair
But you’re just so much cheaper I’ve learned not to care.
You’ve wiped out the scenery, killed mom n pop
homeless vets live in tents behind your back lot.
And me, yes it’s true, like some crack-smokin bitch:
Cash-strapped, stretch pants, with three hungry kids;
Be it fish sticks or towels or Equate spermicide
Or the Band-Aids my blood will need to squeak by
Or July 4th from China, or African plums –
my cart has no conscience; she turns tricks and runs.
Cuz I need you like coughing needs a carton of reds
Like a cheating spouse needs prescription meds
I need you like white bread needs Sara Lee ham
Like electric carts beeping in a traffic jam.
I see the wifebeaters, the meth in their bones
The oil stains of Jesus, diabetes, bad loans
In a faraway country, your factory kids starve
But I’m saving on box tops and White Stag neckscarves;
Wal-Mart O Wal-Mart, your bakery sucks balls
And the slaves working there have eaten their souls
Fucknuts in pickups, ten puppies for free
An orc in aisle five beats her child with sweet tea.
But me, I’m your bae, your shorty, your boo
I shop every day with cloth bags and no clue
someday I hope I won’t need you so much
But for now I’m so broke, who gives half a fuck.