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MacMillan Go Sober for October


Otta

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BOUT OF SOBRIETY


With a little red wine beneath my belt, I breathe breath that can melt the paint off doors.

A tongue to strip the polish off a parquet floor.... smooth.

Wake up in the morning with a concertina cough, my coke-encrusted lungs a fluttering like a pigeon loft.

Brown-top-fingers fumble for the 1st days fag: stick it in my face and (cough) What a drag.


Once my skin was soft as a hard-boiled egg. I held the whole wide globe in the palm of my leg.

I was the clear-eyed pride of an upright man, now I?m a downright sot-of-a-son and that?s sad.

But I?m trying real hard, think I?ve served my time in the purple-stained arms of the daughter of the vine.

I?d like to settle down, but first I gotta settle up with the understanding man in the embalming-fluid shop.


?Cos I got swingin? jowls, a puke-box and an ulcer, my ole arteries are hardening just fine - Do It.


That sounded so authentic, like to thank you Bubs & Ric for your wholesome Country fiddlin? and I love the way you pick your noses while you?re waiting: Will there be another take? I hope not ?cos I?m knackered and I?m dying for a snakes.


Get home early morning and I throw myself in bed, asleep my mouth wide-open me woman thinks I?m dead.

She kicks me, I start gruntin?, she knows that I?m alright, disgusting in the darkness, I?ve been boozin? thru? the night.

Yeah, I?m snorin? like a rhino, she gives a little dig, I roll onto my side and I start (snooorrrt) like a pig.

Now she starts to rabbit, you should hear the way she talks.

?You see so many bottles, why don?t you get yourself a cork!?


Gotta glass in my hand/gotta bottle gonna guzzle/gotta stop/gotta go maybe buy myself a muzzle.


 

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