Satan in Quarantine

My streets an oozing cesspool
And I hope that yours is too
All your excess is an abscess
Draining in my living room

And despite all your derision
I am fine lifting the load
Count my luck, I count my blessings
Count my fingers, count my toes
What Satan needs to know is
There's no shame in saying hell don't feel like home

Home is fucking hopeless
Home is for the weak
Khaki stress and self defense
Where function never meets

Yet still I′d feel so lucky
To one day be called an old
Count my grays, I count my days
I count my wrinkles, count my folds
What Satan needs to know is
There's no shame in saying hell don't feel like home

The demons won’t stop screaming
The wifi moves so slow
There’s two gargoyles 69ing
Constantly out my window
What Satan needs to know
There’s no shame in saying hell don’t feel like home