Crying All the Way to the Pawnshop

If I didn’t have bad luck
I’d have no luck at all
No luck at all
If I couldn’t sing, if I couldn’t sing
I’d probably make decent money
Crying all the way
To the pawnshop and I pray
For my superficial gene to clam down
Trying not to buy
Quite as many under eye creams
I’m crying all the way to the pawnshop
When my dad was my age
He had a big wage
A summerhouse, French holidays
Crying all the way to the pawnshop…
Water and noodles
No-good-nappies for the kids
Two thousand arguments
About an empty fridge