My prospects are all out of minutes
My glory has faded away
I get up on that old treadmill
Day after day after day
The boss he don't like my performance
Old lady says that too
But she spends all the money on scratch-offs
And she likes the way that feels too
But its OK
I'm a Douchebag
You can blame it on me
My woman is sweet perfection
What she wants is the way it will be
She keeps huggin' and kissin, and grindin' and dissin'
And speaking my mind to me
And 'iffin I want to take my peace
And give all the talking a rest
She shoots out her tires, blame it on me
'Cause she knows her lawyer's the best
But its OK
Ninety days
Ain't nothin' to me
My children, they are all a blessing
And I know nothing more could be true
And I'm prayin' The Good Lord keeps them safe
In spite of the things they do
Sometimes I'm not understanding
What we do to them kids these days
I hope they can find something better to do
Than blowing each other away
But its OK
I'm a Douchebag
You can blame it on me
Just like me . . .