Blame it on the Bottle

No one likes a know it all who knows nothing

In the wake of your voice I hear a cold beer crushing

Under pressure, you got a pair of socks but claim to have

A full dresser, your a mess, yet think you're cleaner than

A "Cosby Sweater" 

But your' demeanor says you're weak like misdemeanors 

Missed the meter, mister pristine in a steam cleaned wife beater

You stopped too short, and not for sport like Derek Jeter

You're a heretic married to his own ego

Verichip in his Ego's, and rockin' out to Seether

Listen you are no apostle, just an obstacle

Like battling a walking whisky bottle

Lost in a twisted pot hole, shot from victim's nozzle

Go on sip that sinister slew, mighty minister of 

the finishers crew

First fleeting f**k up to swing between saloon gates

Last bleeding hiccup to leave this consumed place

Know one likes a drunk skunk on the junk

walked in and stunk up the room with that liquor fume funk

Breath smells like a busted brewery pump

coated with gunk that looks like last week's lunch

I've got a hunch that the drunk back with a vengeance 

Is going to bleed over the sentence, coating the punctuation

Causing confusion due to fluctuation

I've seen poisoned patrons pushing pennies as quarters

over and over...For now I'd rather be sober.