Drink Your Troubles Away
Let it roll, baby, roll
Driving into the rough, gravel parking lot, I saw the flashing neon signs above an old shack, on the bad edge of town. The shack had seen better days, that's for sure. Some paint and TLC might pretty her up, but it wouldn’t hide the smell of beer, blood, and broken dreams. As they say, it’d be like putting lipstick on a pig.