deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Barroom Blues
Standing here
At the end of the bar,
Wine glass in my hand.
My eyes are red
And you can see their sadness,
But I just don’t understand.
Why won’t you come over
And talk to me?
I want to be a part of you
(You all seem so happy)
But I just don’t know
What to do.
I’ve got these silent, withdrawn,
Barroom blues
Again.
Don’t know how I can
Go on anymore,
I think it’s the end.
I’ve got these silent, withdrawn,
Barroom blues
Once again,
And no matter what happens,
It seems like
I just can’t win.
Why am I alone
At the end of the bar?
Think I’ll have another shot!
Then maybe you’ll think
I’m good enough,
‘Cause I sure want what you’ve got.
Why can’t I just
Quit this drinkin’
And get on with my life?
Where is mine—where is she—
And why is everything screwed up
In my life?
I’ve got these silent, withdrawn,
Barroom blues
Again.
Don’t know how I can
Go on anymore,
I think it’s the end.
I’ve got these silent, withdrawn
Barroom blues
Once again,
And no matter what happens,
It seems like
I just can’t win.
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