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Birch Hill Dam

Following my instincts sanity, and falling out of touch
With reality so sacred, and my wings turning to rust
By the weekend, I am ready, to cut my problems loose
Signs of being inebriated are a burden on the truth

I am a, booze hound
I feel no pain
Quick to change, booze hound
Who's got the……… round

Master of a false coherence, and a best friend of the blues
My consumption overtaking, on a fast track to defuse
Power hour, intoxicating, another round on the house
Try to resurrect my conscience, or continue on this ground

Repeat Chorus

Hung-over once again
I'm feeling short of oxygen
Why I do this to myself
An answer only time will tell

Repeat Chorus

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