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Sitting in a square room |
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My voice is freezing |
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And the beams that are bouncing off the moon |
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Are hanging from my window like icicles |
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Just a tired old alcoholic, waxing bucolic |
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Shivering and homesick |
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Staring at a wooden floor |
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Staring at a wooden floor |
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Last night |
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I nearly killed myself |
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Chasing rum with rum |
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There were crows flying all around my head |
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And I sure caught and ate me some |
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Funny how |
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I alienated |
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Those who |
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I was trying just so, so hard to impress |
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Now half those fuckers hate me |
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And I'm just a fool to all the rest |
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Why do I insist on drinking myself to the grave? |
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Why do I dream about cozy coffin? |
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I had all these plans of great things to accomplish |
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But I end up purely pathetic more than often |
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Sitting in a square room |
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My voice is freezing |
