I live on the street under the 405.
You stare at your phone at the light in your Ford.
Just ignoring my sign on your morning drive.
It’s fuckin’ hard each day to just stay alive.
My girl turns tricks to eat, ain’t really a whore.
We live on the street under the 405.
Is it good or bad luck that I still survive?
My mom was a junkie, that opened the door.
I’ll be here in the rain on your evening drive.
Been under this freeway, it’s goin’ on five.
They treat us like shit when we finish our tours.
It sucks on the street under the 405.
This ain’t what we want for the rest of our lives.
But shelters take your fix, can’t go there no more.
I’ll see you tomorrow on your morning drive.
Was it an overdose or a suicide?
Or just really bad shit in yesterday’s score?
We die on the street under the 405.
You won’t notice me gone on your morning drive.
Flechewounds 