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