Whiskey & Bachelorhood

Twelve years dead before I hung your picture
Never got the tat, maybe in the future
Old Neil and Jack, being beatniks out in Denver
No dates or text, just the image of their friendship
Sing La, La La La La La

Your face is sad, it's late, you're forty-two
Sitting in your mother's chair it's unique, it looks like you
In all your other photos you're posing, or you're smiling
Here you're looking pensive as if round the bends you're dying
Sing La, La La La La La

It was just the whiskey and the feeling that it's hopeless
Long nights of bachelorhood, their endless years of service
No one here thinks whiskey or bachelorhood are murderers
Cause no one here knows anything until they're in their forties
Sing La, La La La La La

Your sad face, younger than mine
Marriage keeps me busy, liquor takes its time
I miss you desperately clambering through your ruins
It's weird when I catch myself wondering how you're doing
Sing La



Credits
Writer(s): William Stafford
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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