waking up the clock’s, at half past two
hold my head and wonder “what did i get up to?”
check my phone’s texts and hope
i didn’t thumb somethin’ dumb, while sipping a red solo cup

put the coffee on, mumble some truths
like “i need to get a grip and take control”
as the filter drips, smell fills the room
i glance at the floor, where my head spent the night before

i brought out my emotions
with one or two cans of molson
chased it down with another round
please pretend that i sound so profound
but the only thing you’d notice
in the tone of my voice is
hopelessness
when i’m in three or four in

by thursday i’m counting down the days
don’t know how many more of em i can take
every minute till the weekend, i wait and wait
till i can fill my cup up another ounce or eight

on friday i’d go out to a bar
a place i claim where all of my friends are
but i’ll drive them away with the sullen words i’d say
and beg them to stay, i’d need a ride home anyways

all my thoughts and worries
spill out from this bottle of whiskey
pound ‘em back until i yak
then plead not to be thrown out on my ass
and if i must be honest
i’m in love with the catharsis
that comes along with the intoxicants
when i’m a few more drinks in

dream of the things i’m looking forward to
but they always end with me drunk from the brews
and early the next day, i will cry in shame
this lightweight
can’t walk straight
all red in the face
he’s such a waste

on sunday i’d hope to start anew
but i missed the bell call for the church pews
i slept through the day, letting it get away
but now it’s late and i’m wide awake

my headache is returning
and my throat is burning
the water from the tap’s not taking back
what i said and how i’d act
the worst of all of this
is that i know i won’t know my limit
when i’m three or four in
when i’m a few more drinks in
when the liquor’s pourin’
till the next morning