| I just found me a bottle of blues
|
| Some strange comfort for a soul to soothe
|
| Ain’t it hard
|
| Ain’t it hard
|
| To want somebody who doesn’t want you
|
| And i’ve been waiting for a year, a day
|
| Some strange weather must be blowing' my way
|
| Cause i got no mind to go or to stay
|
| Or be left behind
|
| Holding' hands with an impotent dream
|
| In a brothel of fake energy
|
| Put a nickel in the graveyard machine
|
| I get higher and lower
|
| I get higher and lower
|
| Like a tired soldier
|
| With nothing' to shoot
|
| And nowhere to lose
|
| This bottle of blues
|
| Egos drone
|
| And pose alone
|
| Like black balloons
|
| All banged and blown
|
| On a backwoods river
|
| The infidels shiver
|
| In the stench of belief
|
| I tell my momma i’m a hundred years late
|
| I’m over the rails
|
| And out of the race
|
| And the crippled psalms
|
| Of an age that won’t thaw
|
| Are ringing in my ears
|
| Holding' hands with an impotent dream
|
| In a brothel of fake energy
|
| Put a nickel in the graveyard machine
|
| I get higher and lower
|
| I get higher and lower
|
| Like a tired soldier
|
| With nothing' to shoot
|
| And nowhere dreams it’s a.
|
| Bottle of blues
|
| I just found me a bottle of blues
|
| Some strange comfort for a soul to soothe
|
| Ain’t it hard, ain’t it hard
|
| To want somebody who doesn’t want you
|
| Holding' hands with an impotent dream
|
| In a brothel of fake energy
|
| Put a nickel in the graveyard machine
|
| I get higher and lower
|
| I get higher and lower
|
| Like a tired soldier
|
| With nothing' to shoot
|
| And nowhere dreams it’s a.
|
| Bottle of blues
|
| Bottle of blues |