So I found myself turning to pot likker
Not once, not twice, and the standard is gold, not silver
It's always a new taste, a new mix, a new remedy
For the same wound, the same scar, the same tragedy
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked myself
But there's never an answer better than the top shelf
The vessels are there, I never meant to have them
They keep flowing and I'm too weak to stop them
If I could let it go, I wouldn't turn to one
But I need to stay high to not think of you even once
What have you done?
No. Sorry, what have I done?
It was served on ice and garnished with pineapple
It was cold, it was sweet, it was everybody's pleasure in quadruple
They looked happy and so I thought I would too
But when the hangover begins, I began to miss you
At least I thought I was missing you
Or was I trying to be you?
-PRK-
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