Six-pack at home, been sober since eight. Not a dime to cure my drought.
The wife won’t leave, she always say:
For a divorce you gotta pay
Jane doe, became her name. A bloody stump without a face.
Her face was blown away with a hollow tip. Credit for the ring, cash for the clip.
That dry day, as I got home,
the usual scene. The bitch, she wasn’t alone. In freshman years I’d throw a fit,
But by this time I’m used to it.
Call me pathetic, call me weak
It don’t mean shit once I have a drink.
But they went and left me a beer-less fridge So instead of the liquor store,
I turned to the clip.
Jane doe, became her name.
A bloody stump without a face.
Her face was blown away with a hollow tip. Credit for the ring, cash for the clip.
We don’t know who she is,
But we know what she did
“Don’t drink my beer” carved in her skin A wedding ring dug in as the “o”.
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