Don\'t you think
You\'ve had
a few to many
To be begging
For another drink?
Your eyes are blurry
Your speach is slurry
And I\'m standing over here
Don\'t you think
You\'ve drunk
to hell a plenty
To be pleading
For another fix?
Your sons are worried
Your wife is coming
Damn it get that man a beer
You said hey there
Mister barman
Without this neat bourbon
Or some sweet cherry wine
You might aswell
Give me a shotgun
I\'ll go out
On my own time
Everybody has a number
Everybody has a church
So you keep preaching
The good life
While I recapture my rapture.