Don't know if I believe in God but sometimes I pray
'Cause the way I was raised keeps me afraid
A scientist who has to have his way
I subsist on a steady diet of shame

I hope I can forgive me
For having the nerve to exist

I hope someone can help me
Make some sense of this

I work a ten-hour grave
From nine to seven
I can't fall asleep
Until eleven past eleven
There's no drug that I can take
That will keep me from being awake
Past my, past my
Bedtime

Truckers are the blood in the veins in the body of America
States are the arms and the legs and the brains and the eyes
There's a disease, spreading from organ to Oregon
And you are the white blood cell that fixes the problem

You don't know your own power
You don't know what you're worth
You don't recognize your valor
And until you do, nothing you do will matter