As I count the coins laid on the bar
I think of home then of a bottle new,
I can't go home and I can't drive the car,
the alcohol even comes before you.
People told me that you were leaving
as I live at the bottom of this jar.
The drink has gone but has me believing
that you will stay just right where you are.
But your bags were packed and you have left,
the old place feels like a ghost walked on through.
I sit here nursing a head that's bereft
trying to forget the thoughts of you.
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 10:14 AM UTC
As I count the coins laid on the bar
I think of home then of a bottle new,
I can't go home and I can't drive the car,
the alcohol even comes before you.
People told me that you were leaving
as I live at the bottom of this jar.
The drink has gone but has me believing
that you will stay just right where you are.
But your bags were packed and you have left,
the old place feels like a ghost walked on through.
I sit here nursing a head that's bereft
trying to forget the thoughts of you.
Another song!
And No, its not from experience. I rarely touch alcohol.
