Passed out in the front seat of a Ford Econoline. Had the keys in my pocket so the cops couldn’t say that it was a crime. I know it’s true we went cruisin’ for a boozin’ but today it all feels a little confusing. I went looking for trouble and found it with a flick of the wrist.
We crashed the frat part and invited ourselves to the beer. None of these college bros have the balls to kick us out of here. But it was all my fault, should have never mixed in the Beam. Woke up in Providence (Rhode Island), without my jeans. I try to be good but it’s just so hard to resist.
I ain’t proud of this. Another swing and a miss. You know I never heeded temptation until I tasted that whiskey on your lips, and I ain’t proud of this.
I tried to walk home, but I must’ve got lost. Now I’m in a stranger’s house listening to “Gypsy Punks” and doing Svedka shots. Now it’s Mission Hill, 6AM, can’t find my phone and don’t know where. Got a ripped up coat and pants all covered in piss, and I ain’t proud of this.
Today I’ll do my best not to puke at work. I don’t remember what you said to me but I know it hurt. Now the coffee ain’t helping, just making me sick, and I smell like smoke and look like shit, and I sit and think of someone I shouldn’t miss.