by Mrs P Sylar Fri 12 Aug 2011 - 14:10
Pour me, pour me, pour me another,
It holds me, holds me, like no other
One more drink then I swear that I'm going home,
Truth is I don't really have a place to do,
So pour me, pour me, pour me another
I wake up right about the mid-afternoon,
With the sun in the sky by night's coming soon
I walk to the mirror just to fix myself
Yeah, life gets harder when you love nothing else
So I pick my pills from the counter drawer,
Pick my self-esteem up off the fucking floor
I guess I'm a man of no recourse,
As I crack another bottle got no remorse