My prospects are all out of minutes My glory has faded away I get up on that old treadmill Day after day after day The boss he don't like my performance Old lady says that too But she spends all the money on scratch-offs And she likes the way that feels too But its OK I'm a Douchebag You can blame it on me My woman is sweet perfection What she wants is the way it will be She keeps huggin' and kissin, and grindin' and dissin' And speaking my mind to me And 'iffin I want to take my peace And give all the talking a rest She shoots out her tires, blame it on me 'Cause she knows her lawyer's the best But its OK Ninety days Ain't nothin' to me My children, they are all a blessing And I know nothing more could be true And I'm prayin' The Good Lord keeps them safe In spite of the things they do Sometimes I'm not understanding What we do to them kids these days I hope they can find something better to do Than blowing each other away But its OK I'm a Douchebag You can blame it on me Just like me . . .