Backseat Bogan

What's hiding beneath your house baby? I cannot get at it, oh I'm all alone in the back of house and I've got no eyes on my front Sometimes I feel real homely though when home's just a reboot of home Sometimes I get real lonely though 'cause all of youse drive and I don't I ride the bus in my sweatsuit lately God, turn down the oven, oh All day I work in the pizza parlor And all night I'm making the dough I wanna get that money though so I can spend more time alone Some of my friends I know you know you're there when it's good, then you go My mother says I drink too much Maybe I'm just keeping afloat I sink like four hundred once a month on my asthma medication Just gotta breathe until I'm broke, no Old Mil at the bottlo I hope I know my privilege though when I send beer to your postal code Guess you'd call a young bitter sugar daddy a sour patch kid, huh? Beatbox en route to my house 'cause I'm just a backseat bogan