She standing there with her gin and tonic
Holding it like a cross
ripe for crucifixion

She turns to smile making sure you see her
Pouring out wiles of affection on the somebody that's brand new

It's like an arrow through your affliction
Cutting deeper than the burbon on your breath
Is it her way of making up a torture test ?
Well the answered would be . . . YES !

Well it's sometime between midnights
It's anytime now all of the time
She holding the arm of leaving
with the intention of her new guy she's deceiving

There's no amount of Bourbon you hush
It can't flush away the ghosts

And it must be between the midnights
It must be the last of last call for toasts

The band's quit for the night
The pianist twinkles on the keys of exhaustion
I whisper to the glass of ice
Everything's going to be alright
Best to err on the edge of caution
and learn how to roll with the dice