Real Grit

 

I.

 

Pour me another and let It drop down,

Just one more for the Road, for my throat

 

If every drink was an Answer,

I’d surely drink till I was Better

 

I’d wallow in booze and shoulder You higher;

The weight of a Girl and all her Wires…

 

what I wouldn’t give for a shot, and a bar at which to shoot it down

what I wouldn’t give for a heart, and a hole in which to bleed myself out

 

II.

 

Give me Something to wash my Mouth out;

I think I’m going South…Nah, just going out

 

My Arm, the Blood, and the Smearing

My Neck, the Air, and all that Breathing

 

Please, Pour me another and make It last;

Pour the Burn all down my throat—I’ll

 

drunk me a dream that smells of gin

drunk me a nap that tucks me in

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