Sometimes I just stare at the wall
Asking it to give me a sign.
I don’t know what I’m looking for,
Maybe I’m just wasting time.
I’ve got a hard drive full of dreams
And all the paper a writer needs,
But when the words don’t come out right,
I may as well just call it a night
And say let the whiskey flow
Right down my parched throat,
Maybe somewhere down there
It’ll find where all the words go
And when I’m good and wasted,
I won’t have to wonder when
Cause I’ll know when I taste it
Like the bottom of a fine tequila,
I’ll hit the rock of my great idea!