My line of sight's on you.
You're a black eye in a line up,
You wear trouble like a century measures a second.
Easy tick, easy tock, it goes easy down the throat,
Bourbon on the rocks.
While ******* kissed sins throwing punches compete,
Dive bar bathroom stalls run prints.
So when the bourbon's kicked and you walk out,
They'll be talking till the neon signs burn out.
Notoriety is one way of doin' it.