In the land of white trash,
there was a boy who gave a crap.
His name was Mark E. Nash,
and he just wouldn't shut his trap.
When the kids would call him out
and say that he was poor,
he would begin to shout
and exclaim "get out some more!"
He may have bought his outfits
at the second-hand shop,
but out of high school classes
he would not drop.
He wouldn't be like his daddy,
smoking dope
and working as a caddy,
life hanging on a threadbare rope.
No, Mark wouldn't be like his mom,
eating and eating away the pain
of mistakes like the threat of a bomb,
that on her record would remain.
Martin would leave
the poverty and mobile home behind.
He would believe
in the future he had to find.
