from the back of my head to the tip of my tongue there are ten miles of bad road
so everything I say tonight will go horribly wrong
it never has stopped me from tossing back shots as if somehow it gave me control
you can pity the first foolish soul who gets me to talk
well i can’t blame the world when it’s turned on its ear by a girl that i care for
i can’t blame the whiskey, ‘cause i took it willingly, right?
there’s no fault at all to the friends who don’t call when they figure i’m probably done for
so i’ll say my piece, pack my sh.., and get out of your sight.