Darkside of the Bottle

I met Johnny many a night
Tips the hat with a smile

Where are you going? 
Hitting the pavement
Sloshing down the alley
Walking away from that man

You’ve known him for years
Hangs his coat in your parlor
Swaggers across the room
Creeps into bed

Buzzing at your highest moment
Hands grip the bottle
Slice of lime brightens the glass
Two cubes dance the waltz

In the morning he’s at your table
One more shot to wash the coffee down
Nothing to do but write in bed
Before that bad bottle of whisky’s gone

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