Old man.
Your hair sticks to your forehead, your eyebrows are half burnt off from when you light your cigarrete carelessly.
Today your jovial and humourous. last week you were an angry grimace and a mess.
Now you fall down about once a week leaving blood stains all about the floor.
The doctor´s requests for you to stop drinking have all been diligently ignored.
When you´re lost and begging for change you lie to them about what´s for.
Then you go home to your sisters drunk and dawnsmacked screaming at the top of your lungs.
Soon your cries for help will drown out your merry drinking songs.
The chorus repeats and haunts like your constant hangover.
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