Knewit on waking, I don't want this:
Puffeyes sleeping, pillow lipstained,
and yesterday gone, like all the wine.
Sicksmonths of stupor, then heartdisease.

Though said I didn't, or wouldn't care
for nuthin more than what we were
and what we had. It all seemed true
till thismorning, now heartdisease.

OhI didn't know I was lying
and if you did this to me I'd hate you.
Empty the nightstand of all these memories
and slap my legs and cut my throat.

Down the woodhill spill my bags.
Just tell your mother I went mad,
and forget all about me because I'm gone:
finished diminished by heartdisease.