With this empty bottle in my hand.
I'm passed the point were I can stand.
I have wild thoughts when I'm sober.
And clear thoughts when I'm hungover.
My bed is a park bench with no one to meet.
My home is a bar down the street.
My backyard is a river where no one goes to.
Even though the water is clear and blue.
With this coffee cup in my hand.
I'm ready to start my day and stand.
I have work constantly on my mind.
And free time is something I can't find.
My bed has one side that's always cold.
My home will never change as I grow old.
My backyard has a swing on a tree.
Even though the seat is always empty.
