Right around the corner,
there's a hoarder of liquor.
He wants to put it down,
but he needs it quicker.
The problems that he solves-
they don't mean a thing.
He needs everything with everything.
With a sober-straight face
and hands with nothing,
I try to lay it out to explain something.
But, he doesn't have an ear,
at least not for reason.
The bottle that he spins
doesn't land on anything.
I'm the kind of friend
that won't ever listen
and I don't ever mind it,
because I'm open-minded.
I don't need friends
that can eat their feet.
With that foot in your mouth,
where do you keep your teeth?