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I was stumblin' bumblin' down them neon Music City sidewalks
With a Junkie and a Juicehead who had problems of their own
Stuck with luck that kept me standin' just a step away from starvin'
And some talent that I swore I'd show before I'd go back home
80 days out of the Army makin' neither love nor money
And my only set of clothes was gettin' closer to the bone
Then the Junkie placed an order with the prophet on the corner
While he told us of the soul that he'd been sellin' for a song
He said my fortune was my future but I let it slip away
Slowly smokin' myself broke on 80 cigarettes a day
Findin' out that crime ain't all there is that doesn't pay
And writin' songs for no one but myself and the Juicehead who said
If I can read my fortune in the bottom of a glass
Then I can see it's time for me to make my last request
Will you fill my grave with whiskey when I'm laid away to rest
So the boys can say I drank my way to hell
Well I drank the whole thing over put 1 and 2 together
And it addered up to more of what I didn't wanna be
I ain't blamin' Music City but it's only gonna see me
One more work day and a wake up and the time it takes to leave
'Cause I got a dirty picture of what could've been my future
In a prophet pushin' daydreams on a corner for a fee
And a wino lookin' lonely at a bottle gettin' empty
And a hungry lookin' Junkie hauntin' tea and sympathy
And I bet that Junkie's laughin' at the life he threw away
While he's smokin' himself broke on 80 cigarettes a day
Pleadin' down the prophet to a price that he can pay
And writin' words that no one's gonna see but the Juicehead who said
Every empty bottle is his private chrystal ball
Where he stares into the future findin' nothin' there at all
Which is all I'll miss tomorrow when them neon shadows fall
On a Junkie and a Juicehead minus me