Liqour Lights

How many white lies will it take
to brighten these blacked out nights?

If I tell myself that I'll never
pick up another drink,
those are loose change words
and my actions have always
spoken louder
than the coins in my jeans,
so I can't trust myself
with such a faded promise;
looks like I'm doomed
to live a life full of liqour lights.

I think that deep down
I'm a good man,
but I end up being
much worse when I wake up
at 6 a.m in the hallway
still half lit from the bar;
I always take it
too far,
too strong,
spinning off the last drink
I had topped up,
swerving in circles,
no stop signs,
no limits,
so I end up on my way
driving to the drunk tank.