Bottom of the Bottle

The toilet bowl’s drunk on last night’s booze
I got my face on the floor, silent as a tomb
Another screw rattled loose from this good timing abuse
And that toilet bowl begs me for another
Oh, brother, don’t tell my mother
I’m breathing in manual, stuck hard in low gear
Looking for the answer in the mirror
The words come clear, but they’re much too hard to hear
From the creaking, aching pain of almost dying
Oh, reaper, where ya hiding?
I go out every night with a fire in my eyes
With thoughts of loving hard and drinking light
But th room gets to getting smaller and my drinks gt to getting taller
And the fire in my eye gets to getting dimmer
Oh, mother, how’d I get here?
At the bottom of the bottle sits the hole in my head
Teeming with demons drunk on my regrets
Teasing my weakness with an open seat to sit
That toilet bowl’s drunk on last night’s booze
I got my face on the floor, silent as a tomb
Another screw rattled loose from this good timing abuse
And that toilet bowl begs me for another
Oh, brother, where’s my mother?