Just sittin’ listenin’ to the jukebox,
Been broke since 1999;
Broke and just won’t work no more,
Both the jukebox, and this heart of mine.
Take my calories today in Absinthe
Same as the day before.
Maybe I can hallucinate
So I don’t see her no more.
Tequila makes her clothes fall off her,
Whiskey makes the good times come,
Gin’s gonna win despite the state I’m in,
But it’s Absinthe makes you Zydrate-numb.
Maybe it’s just bad luck,
And maybe it’s just fate,
Maybe it’s like that old, old song,
The one by Mr. George C. Strait
No matter what you got,
It feels like nothin’ at all
It ain’t just the mighty
No, even the low can fall.
(Chorus:)
Absinthe is a chore to drink
It ain’t the best for shots
It takes some time to get it right,
But time’s all I really got.
Some like fancy white absinthe,
Some like strange old green
I like whatever bottle
Will wipe my memories clean.
(Chorus)
(Last chorus:
Tequila makes her clothes fall off her,
They’re dusty now, on the floor
I got the green fairy, for today
To help me think no more.
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