Drank it up slowly
|
As I looked at the only
|
People in the room.
|
“It's ok to admit that
|
You have been laughed at,”
|
Said Mr. Deacon Blues.
|
|
Then some broken fool laughed
|
And hi-fived the bar back,
|
“I'll have another round.”
|
Raised it up to the ceiling, said
|
“This one with feeling.
|
What's the matter with this town.”
|
|
If I look like a mess. I must be a mess.
|
|
Kick snare and hi-hat,
|
Crushed cigarette pack,
|
2 is coming soon.
|
Kids on a wall plaque,
|
“AYSO Champs, Summer 1992.”
|
|
“Good hands don't deserve this.”
|
“Maybe someday you'll learn kid that
|
Silence is a sound.”
|
Raise it up to the ceiling,
|
“Make this one with feeling.”
|
We'll drink until we drown…
|
|
Turning on and off and on.
|
|
-----------------
|
Looks Like A Mess
|
| Sunday's Best |
