I say, my, my slow decent Into alcoholism it went To my head, where I really need it With the views that remain untreated | | I say my, my, my, my slow decent Into alcoholism it went... |
I say my, ever loosening grip On the commonest courtesies slipped From my hands, where I really need her When I need change for the parking meters | | I say my, my, my, my slow decent Into alcoholism it went... |
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