Loosely hanging from the edge of my barstool trying to act cool but it is hard to hide the drool when the thin line from your lip to your chin is melting down to your shirt and your one leg stable is incapable of finding it's way out of the pool of vomit So I grab a shoulder to cry on or at least dry off on but one look around and the party is gone, the song is over, so I try to grow strong, get sober, get along, right or wrong, not even a four leaf clover could save my soul from the long walk home, when my legs are numb my nerves have been dumbed by this consumption of to many alcoholic beverages and the leverage I have over my self could not compare to the control of the intoxicating smell of liquor in the morning, I am mourning the lost with a drink, and the last drink, the kick makes me blink, whence in the name of love, makes me think above and outside of myself so one after another bottle off the shelf to drink until I see double, this erases the troubles i have, and i drink to be lonely, until I find myself alone, on the bottom of the pile of rubble that use to be a good life.
