| The bars are all closed
|
| It’s four in the morning
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| Must have shut 'em all down by the shape that I’m in
|
| I lay my head on the wheel and the horn begins honking
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| The whole neighbourhood knows
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| That I’m home drunk again
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| If drinking don’t kill me, her memory will
|
| I can’t hold out much longer, the way that I feel
|
| With the blood from my body, I could start my own still
|
| But if drinking don’t kill me, her memory will
|
| These will old bones they move slow
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| But so sure of their footsteps
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| As I trip on the floor and I lightly touch down
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| Lord, it’s been ten bottles since I tried to forget her
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| But the memory still lingers lying here on the ground
|
| If drinking don’t kill me, her memory will
|
| I can’t hold out much longer, the way that I feel
|
| With the blood from my body, I could start my own still
|
| But if drinking don’t kill me, her memory will |