We’re always making lemons into lemonade
Boiling sun, burning alive, chugging gallons of it
Smiling with a belly of lemons and a stomach ache
One of these days, we’ll move somewhere warmer
Quit that job
Quit that life,
All that lemonade fills the holes inside.
Makes us question if we’re really so unhappy
Or if we forgot to count our citrus flavored blessings.
Lemonade is the Kool-Aid of cult of optimism,
The can-do elixir of capitalism,
If you can’t make it better,
Make the most of it!
And when we die used up, dry, and exhausted,
We can lay our heads on a bed of all those lemon rinds that got
us through the grind