Living Past Last Call

[Paul T Wentworth]

Copyright 2006
Paul T Wentworth

Emptyin my glass is how I make my evenings pass
Neon lights are so bright they blind me from my past
Here I can be most anyone except the man I am
I can keep him locked up tight until almost 2 am
Just before closing time last chance for alcohol
After that I face the task of living past last call

My ex will tell you, there’s noone worse who walks on god’s green earth
I carry round my problems like they’re big old bags of dirt
But in here they don’t care who I am, they call me by my name
Its just about the perfect place to waste my life away
For a while I lay my burden down, and I don’t feel so small
But all too soon its time to leave and start living past last call

It’s a bunch of drunken little steps that lead to my front door
Sometimes I make it to my bed , Sometimes I use the floor
Nobody here to wake me and complain how loud I snore
No Angel of the morning askin if my head’s still sore
The daytime seems to crawl by as I watch the clock on the wall
I’m waitin to be alive again between happy hour and last call