Little Drunk Fists

Little drunk fists across the tip of my chin

Guess I should've known that they'd be there again

Little drunk fists across the width of my jaw

Gets sometimes to where I just don't feel them at all

That's OK, I can wait another day For these stupid concessions to be made

And you weren't to blame

We put Jack and Johnny Walkers' names In the policeman's notebook when he came

Little drunk fists need some time to there own

Went out to meet some friends but ended up all alone

Little drunk fists find and pick up a phone, But fumble on the numbers when they try to dial home

Little drunk fists reach for just one more round

But end up buying a sixth when the fifth hits the ground

Little baby fists touch my face; clutch my nose, Though they'd rather touch their mother's, but she don't know

Little drunk fists drove the car home last night, Turned left on Oak Street when they should have turned right