Roomates

Got twenty people knockin' on my front door
Only wantin' in so they can spit on the floor
Trample through the house knockin' holes in the walls
Sometimes your friends ain't really friends at all

Well the military brat says he's got it so bad
'Cause his daddy had to move around
I think a father's occupation is a sorry explanation
For fallin' in with the wrong crowd

He's one part saint and two parts sinner
One part expert and two parts beginner
One part blood and two parts liquor
It's gettin' easy to tell the losers from the winners
Easy to tell the losers from the winners

Well the deadbeat dad's got two kids with two moms
And three bills a day to drop down on eight balls
One hand on a lightbulb, one on a ladder
Looks like he's up for another all-nighter

He's thin as a ghost, his teeth all rotten
Got a head full of songs and a mouth full of cotton
His family and friends have long been forgotten
Got a head full of songs and a mouth full of cotton
Head full of songs and mouth full of cotton

I got twenty people knockin' on my front door
Only wantin' in so they can spit on my floor
Trample through the house knockin' holes in my walls
Yeah, sometimes your friends ain't really friends at all
Sometimes your friends ain't really friends at all
Sometimes your friends ain't really no good friends at all