Monday morning I wake up
Just the same as every day
Well I can't hide my bloodshot eyes
Or the smell of Wild Turkey
And I can not remember just exactly where I was last night
But with a little cash for some sour mash
I'll remember things alright
Well I'm still drinking I'm not thinking
About the consequence
When I'm on the sauce I'm at a loss
Of my own common sense
And there's rarely a time that I can't be found in my favorite spot
Just look for the fool at the third barstool slamming whiskey shots
Now it's 3am and the pub's about to close
I've been drinking all day and I have nowhere else to go
From behind the bar it's advised to me that I should give it up
I said I would if I could but I know that I will never win the battle with the bottle
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