This is called Ciroc I didn’t ask for the hangover Didn’t take shots Just momentary sips of a delicious mix The nectar of her lips The sweet of her demeanor The sour of her situation Blended into fleeting possibility Shaken up by unexpected connection I didn’t think I had drank that much When my tab was closed out I thought I was cut off before the effect settled in Didn’t I drive myself crazy wondering why No taxi cab confessions Couldn’t tell anyone about this Stuck with my thoughts spinning around and around Trying to focus on the road ahead What a blurry sense of closure Did I pay enough attention? Don’t feel like I owe an apology Maybe it’s on the heart I never got to call home I never asked for a hangover Always wondered how long it takes to get used to it How many misguided mornings Before my father found this addictive Decided this calmed him No strings attached Is a rising tolerance and cast iron gut Salute to those who make love to wild irish roses See heaven in Seagram’s Seven And forget the morning’s memory by noon I aint got the liver for this languishing My father adored corner store relationships I figured I could protect myself If I set my sights more refined See, I like my Ciroc with pineapple and cranberry Love it when the pour and mix is perfect Keeps me coming back for more Our first kiss was a revelation Who knew if could go down so smooth We spent a wonderful evening together Eyes all glassed over Smile all big Overwhelmed by an intoxicating feeling Of attraction When dawn called my name I felt great No hangover Now, I understand that we generally Holla at ABC stores Pick the appropriate amount of potent For where we are and what we want to accomplish Know that when you offer a committed currency You take home your own bottle Sip that thing slow Mix it with whatever you choose But when you sitting at a bar You got to remember that bottle doesn’t belong to you You don’t get to take it home You can only visit it Take as much in as you can afford to I thought it was safe I woke up with a hangover A there is a vacant lot Where the bar used to be No goodbye No notice The demolition occurred so swiftly Wasn’t I just here last night? No one said a word Heard the rumbling of the walls falling Rippled across Facebook Felt like an earthquake I’m left with the fault lines Trying to understand what I did wrong They say that sometimes the best way to get over a hangover is to drink some more Got me looking in liquor store windows Like if I stare in the eyes long enough It’ll make sense Like I can’t tell that the bottle will be different That it won’t taste the same I thought God was serving me those cups But asking why has thou forsaken me Feels like blasphemy I’ve had this hangover for awhile now Still don’t know how I got it I know my tolerance It didn’t get that far But maybe it was too heavy of a hand Down my cheek Around her waist Maybe it was for the best I think God was serving me those cups Probably knew I was drinking too much Knew I had my daddy’s blood That the taste could get addictive The desire could be too overwhelming Decided cold turkey and throbbing headed reminder would be the best way to move on I didn’t see it that way Drove myself crazy trying to figure it out Probably shouldn’t been driving in the first place An accident would’ve been too damaging I like my Ciroc with pineapple and cranberry A beautiful blend Light, potent, sweet, tasteful Full bodied That won’t change anytime soon But this hangover will fade The bar will be rebuilt under new ownership I’ll learn to be more mindful learn to enjoy what I can afford to have Savor the taste But save my tomorrows for the bottle that calls my heart home
Posted on: Thu, 06 Nov 2014 02:21:19 +0000
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