Maybe you're dressed in your Blue Oyster Cult T-shirt
Or maybe you're crumbling somewhere with a beer in your hand
Or maybe you're laying back on a lawn chair somewhere watching
Contrails disappear from the sky
Whiskey, paink**ers, and speed
Will carry me there
Because it could be
That I could lose my mind
And have it caught somehow suspended in a constant thought of you
Maybe you're living in a row house
Surrounded and aligned next to a hundred others
With streets that run in parallel line
Two stories of brick covered in white trim
Surrounded by ivy and gra**
Or maybe you're living in an apartment somewhere
And like myself, slowly losing your f**ing mind
Whiskey, paink**ers, and speed
Will carry me there
Because it could be that I could lose my sight
But have it caught somehow suspended in a constant vision of you