Late Checkout On My Life

[Verse 1]
Name tag digging in my neck
Fake smile, “How’s your stay?”
Refill their coffee, swallow my rage
Clock in, clock out, same day
Sticky menus, broken chairs
“Can you comp this?” “Get your boss”
Bite my tongue till it tastes like metal
Counting every hidden cost
[Chorus]
I’m done with hospitality
And all this bullshit just to be underpaid
Serving up my sanity
For some loose change and a “maybe someday”
I’m clocking out of your tiny cage
I’m burning up this apron stage
I’m done with hospitality
I’m worth more than a minimum wage (yeah)
[Verse 2]
Back room breathing in the bleach
Manager preaching “we’re a family”
Funny how “family” never helps
When the rent chews into me
You say I “have a great attitude”
Tip jar barely makes a sound
I’ll turn this tired, cracked-up voice
Into something that shakes the ground (hey)
[Chorus]
I’m done with hospitality
And all this bullshit just to be underpaid
Serving up my sanity
For some loose change and a “maybe someday”
I’m clocking out of your tiny cage
I’m burning up this apron stage
I’m done with hospitality
I’m worth more than a minimum wage
[Bridge]
No more “yes, of course, right away”
No more swallowing what I need to say
I’ve got a heart, not a name tag
I’ve got a life you don’t get to drag
[Chorus]
I’m done with hospitality
And all this bullshit just to be underpaid
Serving up my dignity
For your five-star, fake praise parade
I’m clocking out, watch me walk away
You can keep your long nights, low pay
I’m done with hospitality
I’m done being underpaid (underpaid)

rock, Crunchy pop-rock with female vocals; palm-muted guitars in the verses over tight, punchy drums, bass driving a steady groove. Choruses explode with wide distorted guitars, stacked harmonies on the hook, and a bright, slightly overdriven lead line. Second chorus lifts with extra backing vocals and crash-heavy drums, bridge drops to half-time and cleaner tones before a final, shout-along outro hook., pop