Wake up on the bed with three girls sound asleep
Stare at the ceiling for an hour
The Whiskey bottle lies near my face
Best get up and get a shower
The syringe lies on the floor
My arms are white with dots of red
It's a miracle I suppose
That's my hearts not decided it's dead
Rehearsing at five this evening
I'll throw the ladies out then
Then go and see the wife at home
She has a bad taste in men
My father has left me a message
Telling me I'm such a disgrace
Well wait till we have a hit again
Wipe that smile of his fat ugly face
Pastor James Jackson what a lovely man
Hypocrite on the quiet
The things I could tell about him
Would cause the press to start a riot
I remember when I came down for breakfast
And he held my mothers head in the sink
Told me to leave the room
He was hurting her I think
I'm depressed thinking about it now
Last years bike crash was a near miss
But today I might just end it all
And then give my lovely mother a kiss