Lost Weekend We started out together, now I don't know where you are; We stopped before we ate to have a few. You held my hand as we walked in, the valet took our car, I ordered rum and coke the way I do. Then sometime Friday I passed out in the Bring a Bucket Bar And woke up Tuesday with a brand-new Jack of Hearts tattoo In a Motel 6 in Mobile, Alabama without you. No blood on walls or furniture or door; The dresser mirror held no lipsticked threat; No body on the toilet, bed, or floor And I still seem to have both kidneys yet. They left my empty wallet but at least they didn't find The hundred dollar bill I'd hidden. Swell. A peek around the curtains and the sunshine makes me blind, But then I see the car has gone, as well. I shower, then I leave the whole suspicious thing behind. I walk as if I have no cares but every muscle cell Is twitching in rebellion as it wants to run like hell. No flashing lights or sirens up the street; I walk till I can find a store to choose A phone and access in out of the heat Of Mobile and these anywhere else blues. I access my accounts and get a map and car to go To eat, and then the airport for a flight. I call and text but you don't answer since you do not know The number I am using. Well, all right. I watch the world beneath the wings go by far down below, The clouds creating patterns on the ground with dark and light, And wonder whether we will meet some other Friday night. At home I go next door to get a key From Bob and Ell, who've seen this all before, I make myself some fruit and bread and Brie And swear that I won't do this any more. L’envoi Oh promises, oh tempters, oh temptations -- How smooth the paths that slide down out of sight, How subtle the descending graduations. I'll see you all again on Friday night.
Lost Weekend
We started out together, now I don't know where you are;
We stopped before we ate to have a few.
You held my hand as we walked in, the valet took our car,
I ordered rum and coke the way I do.
Then sometime Friday I passed out in the Bring a Bucket Bar
And woke up Tuesday with a brand-new Jack of Hearts tattoo
In a Motel 6 in Mobile, Alabama without you.
No blood on walls or furniture or door;
The dresser mirror held no lipsticked threat;
No body on the toilet, bed, or floor
And I still seem to have both kidneys yet.
They left my empty wallet but at least they didn't find
The hundred dollar bill I'd hidden. Swell.
A peek around the curtains and the sunshine makes me blind,
But then I see the car has gone, as well.
I shower, then I leave the whole suspicious thing behind.
I walk as if I have no cares but every muscle cell
Is twitching in rebellion as it wants to run like hell.
No flashing lights or sirens up the street;
I walk till I can find a store to choose
A phone and access in out of the heat
Of Mobile and these anywhere else blues.
I access my accounts and get a map and car to go
To eat, and then the airport for a flight.
I call and text but you don't answer since you do not know
The number I am using. Well, all right.
I watch the world beneath the wings go by far down below,
The clouds creating patterns on the ground with dark and light,
And wonder whether we will meet some other Friday night.
At home I go next door to get a key
From Bob and Ell, who've seen this all before,
I make myself some fruit and bread and Brie
And swear that I won't do this any more.
L’envoi
Oh promises, oh tempters, oh temptations --
How smooth the paths that slide down out of sight,
How subtle the descending graduations.
I'll see you all again on Friday night.