I pulled into my destination,
and at night I come alive.
Old country on the station,
in this small Midwestern dive.
I sit down with my whiskey,
and toast to another soon forgotten night.
I ask the patron to the left of me,
"Sir, do you have a light?"
I smoke my last cowboy killer,
down to it's smokey bone.
Lost and inebriated,
I can't seem to find my way home.
I stumble until I crumble,
falling into life's crevices and cracks.
My words strewn out as I mumble,
I need to get my life on track.
I fall into the front door,
a man so broken up and used.
If you'd lost everything you stood for,
you'd drink like this too.
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