<Rory Gallagher> page
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Bourbon

Well, he's drinking down the bourbon like it was soda pop,
Trying to quell a feeling he knows ain't gonna stop;
He's mortgaged out his blood for one more chance to breath
He had the D. T. 's for breakfast, the shakes till noon,
He picked up his bag and left his motel room;
His head is held high but his heart is on its knees.
Well, he packed his guitar and his bar-room tan,
Gotta get some miles behind him as fast as he can;
Another destination, some P!ace else to play.
Well, he left a life behind him in some old trailer park.
They tried to make it work; it was ruined from the start.
He had to shake the rust; it became time to leave.
It's a honky-tonk engagement,
But there's no better place to play.
His face feels like crazy pavement

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