Every morning I die
a little death.
Bourbon-shot skies and 
whiskey lies, 
better stop making those
bedroom eyes,
'cause I might just take you
up on it darlin'.
I'm a little bit of pretty nonsense.
Rhyme and dine,
turn down the lights,
break our bodies into bread
and say our daily prayer
and ****** hope there's a god
for sinners.
Fire brings out the worst of us
and we're fucken gasoline.
You keep spittin' out that
serious talk saying
*Everything has a price,*
Well then kiss me now 
and let's bleed for it later,
the whole world's only 
a cocktail darling.