Pink Slip & Pink Frosting

[Verse 1]
She smells like sugar
when she walks through the door
But her apron’s heavy
hits the kitchen floor
She says, “I’m done smiling
for that name-tag fate”
“They count the tips
but they don’t count my breaks”
[Chorus]
So she handed in her pink slip, pink frosting on her shoes (hey!)
Told that bitter little manager, “I’m not your excuse”
Yeah, they wrung her like a rag
for a minimum wage bruise
Now my paycheck’s on the front line
but my girl is finally loose
[Verse 2]
He’d call on her days off
“Can you cover tonight?”
While the schedule bled
right through our life
Burnt-out hands
for a small-time check
She was tearing up receipts
not the rent, last week
[Chorus]
So she handed in her pink slip, pink frosting on her shoes (woah)
Told that bitter little manager, “I’m not your excuse”
Yeah, they wrung her like a rag
for a minimum wage bruise
Now my paycheck’s on the front line
but my girl is finally loose
[Bridge]
I’ll carry the bills
you carry your pride (oh yeah)
You carried that store
now let it die
We’ll eat cold cereal
laugh at the grind
I’d rather be broke
than watch you lose your mind
[Chorus]
Yeah, she handed in her pink slip, pink frosting on her shoes
Left that thankless little kingdom, nothing left to prove
They can cover all her hours
with a “help wanted” sign
I’m the only one still clocking in
but she finally gets her time
[Outro]
I’m the only one still clocking in
She’s the only one that’s truly mine

rock, Fast, scrappy punk rock with crunchy overdriven guitars, up-front male vocals, and gang-shouted hooks. Drums are urgent and stompy, bass snarls along the root. Verses stay tight and conversational; chorus explodes with big octave chords and shout-along lines. Brief middle break strips to drums and bass before final full-band pileup., punk