These tired hands made of splinters
Keep tossing back the whiskey sours...

He's trapped, a prisoner of his own thoughts
And I'm trying to visit him there to free the rot...

Silly little girl has been dreaming of a ring
And won't settle for the subsequent excuse that's...

__________________________________________
These tired eyes, dragging their lids to the floor...

Signal the Bartender, "the usual...
Sit down, grab my drink, freeze...