Woorden: Anchor Arms. Cold Blooded. Cocaine Cowboys.

A whiskey, a line, again and again.
We're at our worst (no worse for war lately.)
Well, it was me against the world til you came crawling back.
A reason, a rhyme, a dance, a fight,
it won't be long til we're out of time to shine
and make a life out of the miles of broken dreams
that symbolize my need to leave tonight.
I'll be alright. I might be down on my luck today.
A simple mind thinks simple things again