She picks me up at the same time every day,

One minute after I lie down to sleep,

We drive in – because it’s cheaper,

The rents are so high in Hell,

We pick up the others,

Only twenty-seven of us (we’re so lucky)

In a ’72 Pinto

Lime green with only three tires,

The drive is long,

The radio only plays Country music,

The same six songs,

“Just like AM radio,” says Trina

She says it every morning,

Today, Bob’s got gas,

Says it because he was a lawyer on Earth

I don’t see his point

But I just wish one

Of the windows worked

God, what did I do

That was so horrible

To deserve this?