vic chesnutt
square room
Sitting in a square room My voice is freezing And the beams that are bouncing off the moon Are hanging from my window like icicles  Just a tired old alcoholic, waxing bucolic Shivering and homesick Staring at a wooden floor Staring at a wooden floor  Last night I nearly killed myself Chasing rum with rum There were crows flying all around my head And I sure caught and ate me some  It's funny how I alienated Those who I was trying just so So hard to impress Now half those fuckers hate me And I'm just a fool to all the rest  Why do I insist on drinking myself to the grave Why do I dream about cozy coffin I had all these plans of great things to accomplish But I end up purely pathetic more than often