Your Whiskey

(альбом: This Old Thing - 2016)

Golden tone from a white oak barrel
Twelve years old, way up on the self
Ninety proof stamped on that label
Tear it off, and wearing nothing else

Wish it was me you were coming home to
Me helping what you're going through
That burning thing you love anticipating
Wish I took the edge off the pain
Wish I put a smile on your face
In the middle of the day, it's me you're missing
I wish I was your whiskey

I'm lying wide awake and sober
And you're dying from that aching in your head
No, I'd never leave your heart hungover
But you're filling up on something else instead

Wish it was me you were coming home to
Me helping what you're going through
That burning thing you love anticipating
Wish I took the edge off the pain
Wish I put a smile on your face
In the middle of the day, it's me you're missing

I'd be the glass pressed against your lips
What your hands touch every night
Hell, I'd even be that cube of ice

Wish it was me you were coming home to
Me helping what you're going through
That burning thing you love anticipating
Wish I took the edge off the pain
Wish I put a smile on your face
In the middle of the day, it's me you're missing
I wish I was your whiskey
Yeah, your whiskey