To the previous resident of my apartment:
Bailey, sweet Bailey,
You’re such a fucking mess.
You’ve got a couple letters
From the IRS.
They’ve tried to write you nicely
— it was all to no avail —
So now they’re sending things to you
By certified mail.
Plus, your creditors are knocking,
— They are such a pushy clan! —
‘Cause it turns out you’ve defaulted on
Your debt repayment plan.
And the new loan applications
— There’s a bunch; I know you tried! —
Have turned to disappointments, with
Each one of them denied.
Bailey, sweet Bailey,
You’re such a fucking mess.
The banks, and cards, and Feds all need
Your new address.
