Whiskey on my Wounds

[couchgrouch]

Whiskey on My WoundsWell, that old bull grazed mewhen I got thrown in CheyenneI should've seen a sawbonesbut I'm a stubborn manso I just bought a bottleand staggered to my roombit down on some old buckleand poured whiskey on my woundswell, I called up my womanfrom somewhere near San Antoneand pain tore through my futurewhen a man picked up the phoneI had to stop the bleedingso I hit a cold saloonI felt a sting then I went numbfrom the whiskey on my woundswhen failure eats at hima man can get to drinkin'after years of being thoughtlessa man can get to thinkin'so are these shots of Jim Beamshooting down my love and dreamscos pain tells us we're still livingbut should I be in a tombcos all I feel is nothin'from whiskey on my wounds(c)2004 Robert George