"Oh, I really hate this place," she said
Putting on her makeup by the unmade bed
Mascara for the lonely want
Call our waitress "honey" then they tip with ones

The summer of our discontent
Every dollar earned was already spent
Bitter sweat and circumstance
Layaway dreams, choked on first breath

A little bit of suffering's
Just what you need to sweeten things
Remind you of what's good, and pure
A little suffering might cure ya'