Why can't I be like all the other kids?
They all have three-bedroom homes, broken trucks on their lawns.
It's not my fault my parents succeed so much.
There's no one in town I can relate to.
I play with autographed baseball bats
While everyone else just plays with sticks and pine cones
And so for I've ever felt so alone
Well, who needs them anyway?
I won't pretend to be something I'm not
If I can't be poor,
I've got to deal with what I've got.
If I can't be like them,
What I need is more rich kids around,
So I'm not the only one, and then I won't be so... down.
Please, God, send more rich kids...
To my...
Town.
