Gimme

turn the fog machine on high

i don't want to see the lines

drawing red and white

cutting out what's yours from what's mine

get back to feeling fine

see the flickering lights

through curtains wearing thin

it's a sickening sign

that tells me where i've been

checked out and vacant

so gimme a bottle

gimme a fifth

gimme anything i can plead to

cut me a truth

with a slap on the wrist gimme

anything i can bleed to

roll another smoke

laugh along with some half hearted joke

watch the hours thin

the digital red keeps me counting

on morning caving in

so gimme a bottle

gimme a fifth

gimme anything i can plead to

cut me a truth

with a slap on the wrist gimme

anything i can bleed to