Every morning is the same,
Running aground a desperate bed.
A bitter taste of vice,
An epileptic thirst.
Liquor is my savior and in the bottle I go deeper and deeper.
Going down the drain.
The need I feel is like a slow death.
A bitter taste of vice,
An epileptic thirst.
Liquor is my savior and in the bottle I go deeper and deeper.
A whiskey suicide, this bitter taste of vice.
Hangman's Chair - Deep In The Bottle
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