Post apocalyptic balcony number 11

Can't complain I guess
Brings in the dollar
Pays for the happy times
With the happy times
Everything else fades

A few of them get physical
Not in the pleasure sense
Black eyes
Bleeding arse hole
Happy times to come

Not really big enough
To fight back
Just take it
Money thrown in face
Black out I guess

Met this guy, last week
Friendly like
Neighbor from floor above
Might tout for johns
But Real life – not into it.

This guy, maybe a friend
Brought me left over dinner
For the microwave
Don't have one though
Ate it cold – alright, better than normal

Next day, he came
Ask for the Tupperware
Hard to get these days
Had a wife in tow
He said to me

Kid, Son,
Want a different job
Want less internal bleeding
Doesn't have to be this way
I get the feeling he may be right.