| I come home late at night with my boots in my hands
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| Stumble in the back door, being quiet as I can
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| And I know she’s there in bed, cold and all alone
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| And she’s crying because I’m breaking up our home
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| And she knows the hell I’m going through in this world inside my head
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| There’s a devil in the bottle, Lord, and he wants to see me dead
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| I fall into her arms and she helps me with my clothes
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| Guess she stays on with me cause she really knows
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| That I’m trying, Lord, to find my freedom
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| By escaping to the only freedom I’ve ever known
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| And she knows the hell I’m going through in this world inside my head
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| There’s a devil in the bottle, Lord, and he won’t rest until I’m dead
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| There’s a devil living in the bottle, Lord, and he won’t rest 'til I’m dead
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| And its killing her too, watching me die this way |