dig

I've got nothing left to give And there's nothing left to say But I'll give you what I've got You can have it anyway I think in lines and syllables Most of them are cynical It strikes me as atypical Frequently and cyclical I'll take my spade And make my day Harder than it was yesterday Roped along with tattered cloth Left me in a haze Take the pill, you will be still Drunk and in a daze