Following my instincts sanity, and falling out of touch With reality so sacred, and my wings turning to rust By the weekend, I am ready, to cut my problems loose Signs of being inebriated are a burden on the truth Because I am a, booze hound I feel no pain Quick to change, booze hound Who's got the Next round Master of a false coherence, and a best friend of the blues My consumption overtaking, on a fast track to defuse Power hour, intoxicating, another round on the house Try to resurrect my conscience, or continue on this ground Hung-over once again I'm feeling short of oxygen Why I do this to myself An answer only time will tell