with Jack Daniel’s, and I’ve got problems, and I miss you.
I remember those times when we would sit with nothing more than
thin cotton for armor, and a gallon of cheap red wine.
Listen to all our old songs and we would laugh, and
we would do shots. Whiskey and wine, whiskey and wine, and
I got so torn up that one night that I said fuck you to everybody,
and tried to leave, not doing so well, and you drug me out
of my El Camino at three in the morning.
I had to be in Jackson by eight, but the wine had burned that
out of my head. I tried to get rid of most of my clothes, from what they tell me.
You laughed, but the next day I was just sick, but your poor little
body, for god’s sake you need to eat more, you fell down, after laughing at me, and
they took you to the hospital.
Me being late to work and throwing up for a few hours beats
having a lousy i.v. in a lousy county hospital.