Packed to Sell by The Fine Print Lyrics

I count my blessings on a three-by-five card
And sure the world's got swings and other things
But they ain't in my yard
And you know the trouble is I'm gone before I go and plant a seed
And I know that kids (cats?) don't think about this half as much as me
So come on tell me why the hell we spend all of our time working so...
So hard

[Chorus]
And if it's not the laundry
It's something fucking else
And if it ain't the TV
It's something on the shelf
I thought it was my big brain
And it fucking might as well
And the evidence says someone
Just packed it all to sell

I count my blessings on a February shard
And it's too cold to go outside
Too many games of cards
And the trouble is I've got too many things that I don't need
And I hope to god I die before I make another me
And I can tell that we have gone well past the line before we hit the bottom hard
I said hard
[Chorus x2]

And it isn't one thing that's clipping my wings
But I don't need much to feel hung
About, without, and when in doubt
A little scream filling up my lungs
I wish that I hadn't seen
Some things that made my heart feel beestung
I kept the tickets in a forty-five
But I traded it for rain
Well I'm still around