I don't know how I feel about music,
It's like I am lost in the cue,
'Cause everyone wants to do it,
And everyone wants to be new,
So maybe I ought to refuse it,
And go find something else that is true.
I don't know how I feel about music,
But I know how I feel about you.
I don't know how I feel about whiskey,
Though it's such a companion to who,
Does embark on a life that is risky,
And is shrouded in lonliness too,
And at daybreak I'm tortured and sickly,
When at the night the sweet fires I imbue.
I don't know how I feel about whiskey,
But I know how I feel about you.
And we pay for these trifles in tandem,
And we moan as the idlers do,
And we suffer our setbacks at random,
Though we're still of the luckiest few,
And we live amongst discarded cargo,
And sorrow where hope once grew.
I don't know how I feel about tomorrow,
But I know how I feel about you.
So scrape out your horn of plenty,
And seek out your last resort,
I'll never again be twenty,
And my life it may even be short,
But when angels or demons come get me,
I think back on all that I knew.
I don't know how I'll feel about my memory,
But I know how I'll feel about you.