Sitting in the corner
Should I or should not warn her
About that fool on her table
Hands and tongue unstable
She don’t care for the car I don’t own
Or if we starve to the very bone
My blunt words don’t hurt no more
Like inconsequential ice when whisky is poured
She don’t want a man with many homes
Blue eyes, or them custom chromosomes
Credit cards, gold chains and diamond rings
Fucking five star dinners fit for kings
All she wants in me
Is a relentless drunk, soul occasionally free
She longs for one who stands up for her
When the rest conspire to defer
A man who does not promise the moon
Or sings some unforgettable tune
But stands in front of a bullet headed her way
One who would simply act, instead of simply say
The fool on her table
Is strong and able
To put three or four to sleep
I am but a single drunk with a single love to keep
Lies, fear and Tequila is overcome
Put myself between her and that bum
He tries to touch what is mine
He runs into a drunk with a spine
I look into the motherfucker’s eyes
And tell him to be wise
Murder on his face clearly writ
A snake outside his toxic pit
But I am who I am
An original, not a Zara sham
I tell the prick he has bitten more than he can chew
If he moves, it will be the last thing he’ll ever do
He looks into my eyes
Sees a sleeping beast rise
Raises his hand
Says I don’t want no trouble man
As I see him walk away
A fucking cliché of a fucking cliché
She puts her hand on mine
Says she could handle the swine
But it’s what she doesn’t say
It’s what every damn woman doesn’t say
All she has wanted over the years
A drunk being a man, for a moment that’s only hers