Whiskey Fist

Hey Bartender, can I get a splash of your finest whiskey

No ginger, no sour, no pickle back

Hold the lime n hold the mint

You see, I'm not looking for small talks or a happy ending

Drowning in sorrow or pity

Bring the fire and make it quick

Make it enough to go around

Pretending to cope days like this

I need a smoke for my lungs

And a whisky for my fist

I love the taste of that sweet, wheated

Single barrel Twelve years, dusty and bonded

Burn the sole not just a lip

I'll take two more like that, and let the medicine win

Prolly be hittin on Mary

That psychedelic chic

Become baddest one around

Pretending to cope days like this

Take that beer for a run

Said the whiskey to the fist

Oh, I'm on a roll

Feelin real good

I'll be cussing tomorrow, but I won't quit

Hit me with that knock em down shot and keep it neat

One more for the habit

Just one last sip

Make it enough to go around

Pretending to cope days like this

I need a smoke for my lungs

And a whisky for my fist