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Woke up behind the steering wheel, |
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Wonder if |
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I've gone too far... |
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Quick shiver, cross against the light, |
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A curse from a cab in a strange tongue. |
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Leave my wheels, better let them rest. |
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The keys like ice in my shaking hands, |
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From the neon haze to the bar stool maze, |
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The nightlife, it sure is a strange one... |
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It's a son of a bitch, when |
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I get that itch, |
|
And here it comes again... |
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Please call me |
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Whiskey Man, |
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When the bottle's in my hand. |
|
Hello, it's |
|
Whiskey Man! |
|
Another shot at my command. |
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Feel old but you say |
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I don't look it, yet. |
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Work so hard trying to hide the miles. |
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A seekers path, |
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I'm on the heels of glory. |
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All paths of glory only lead to the grave. |
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Sweet glory's dancing on yours, |
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She's always one step ahead. |
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Well I know that, |
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I'm still ridin' anyway, |
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A mind is a terrible thing to save... |
|
It's a son of a bitch, when |
|
I get that itch, |
|
And here it comes again... |
|
Please call me |
|
Whiskey Man, |
|
When the bottle's in my hand. |
|
Hello, it's |
|
Whiskey Man! |
|
Another shot at my command. |
|
It was a fine idea long ago, in a time of fine ideas, |
|
When the August night would last into forever. |
|
So we broke the glass and hit the gas |
|
While the |
|
Summer filled the trees. |
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In the day, we two, we were breaking through, |
|
And not dying by degrees. |
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Like I'm trying to say, wash it all away, |
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And here I go again... |
