Wasting away again in Margaritaville, searching for my lost shaker of salt.

I've always found drugs and alcohol somewhat pedestrian. It's like, I don't need an external agent to open my mind. I'm here, conscious, alert, present. Why would I alter that?

I was hungry and went out for a bite, ran into a chum with a bottle of rum and we wound up drinking all night.

Barmaid, bring a pitcher, another round of brew. Honey, why don't we get drunk and screw?

Nothing to show but this brand new tattoo. But it's a real beauty, a Mexican cutie, how it got here I haven't a clue.

It was too much Tequila, or not quite enough.