Cottonmouth

We tell of all our oxbows without yielding a word
And foster them to willing eyes that look up and then down, down
Who says the nights are black enough
Without whiskey, beer and wine?
Who doubt the world we come from?
And so, the summer nights go missing
I’ll declare:
I’ll hold my head high. No you’ll no longer be there
So this is on my time, I’ll breathe the sweetest air
I’ll raise a glass high
To that which falls on deaf ears, I’ll hold my head high
The gaming and the modest talk will end inside the van
Where floodgates open and
Drown the cause down, down, down
These drunken impediments
Will fall out of six dusty cottonmouths
And so, the summer nights go missing
I’ll declare:
I’ll hold my head high; no, you’ll no longer be there
So this is on my time, I’ll breathe the sweetest air
I’ll cast a blind eye
To that which falls on deaf ears, I’ll hold my head high