i met him at the bottom
he was in a manic state and he had gotten
deep into my brain
i think he had forgotten
nah, he didn’t need ’em all just ’cause he bought ’em
he’s got to find a way
to make it through his day without ’em
someone better guide him or we’ll find him

headed for the grave
out to make fools of all who try to save him
and it is far too late
take 20 grams of pleasure per 20 years of pain

the porch swing wood is rotten
where his mama used to wait before she caught him
now the rust is on the chain
and you know damn well she taught him
and she wouldn’t let him leave before she fought him
which makes it hard to see
how not even love can come between what in
the bottle in the hand and a broken man

a death dose in his pocket
worn in a ring in faded jeans last he was seen
said drink it down before you knock it
and no one tried to stop it
now the only time i see his face is
when his mama opens up her locket
and on her brand new wooden swing she wonders
what she could’ve done to keep her son

copyright 2011. words and music by nate logston