There’s mold in the bedroom There’s mold on the ceilings There’s mold in the corners There’s mold on the walls There’s mold behind nightstands There’s mold on the windows There’s mold on the leather of my shoes So I wrote you a letter And I asked you to help me And in two more letters I said it’s the widows They’re running with water They’re ancient and broken Just like your heart You sent over some people Two cunts from your office And a Mold Buster tm And a heating contractor And I got my hopes up That things would get better It was all just a big CYA (cover your ass) A man I’ve never seen before Stopped in and ripped out The shitty old heater (singular) And then he proceeded In the exact same place With the exact same heater To install what wasn’t working, anyway The water is flowing Down the walls and the windows And the mold is a’growing And I see my breath blowing In plumes of damp anger That linger and linger You just don’t have to care Fuck you and the greed you rode in on Fuck you and your entitlement What part did you destroy for the money This is not just an asset This place is my home It’s clear that you’re sitting On a mountain of money And you won’t spring for basics I’d love to see your house I bet you’re not freezing And cleaning the mold off Your favorite cowboy boots  

Tagses: (we can link these up later)

Link to the mp3 file:
BanCal Property Management
Link to this view of the song:
http://song-a-day.netscrap.com/songs/?scrap_id=6959&scrap_category=47