I used to be married

Now I drag around the ring on a sling

In a barrel of salt

She gave me her twenties

Gave her a painting by my mother

Of a couple of marigolds

I've barely been in my body

Since Obama, is it karma, this whole drama?

Now my home ain't my home

And there's nowhere I can be

And nobody I can trust

So I'm just riding on this bus till I'm gone

She dyed my clothes with marigold

When they got old and pitiful

The pigment is so beautiful

But the stains are still visible

This is not a parable

This is real, it's painful

Me and my demands were a handful

Mostly she lived up to her name, though

Last stop

Man, you gotta get off

I gotta take it on back to the depot

Last stop

Come on, pal, you gotta get off

That Starbucks right there's open, mi amigo

She dyed this coat with marigold

But the stain is still visible

This mess is not repairable

And the aftertaste is terrible

Last stop

Come on, man, you gotta get off

I gotta get it back to the depot

Last stop, yo, bro, time to get off

What, you ain't got no people?

I used to be married

Now I carry 'round the ring on a sling

In a barrel of salt

If you can just give us some ideas from your life

Uh, how terrible your life has been, I would be glad to add that to my small repertoire