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Game Over - Instrumental

de Tilt

Bad ventilation duration of a beer, commonplace shithouse drown my fear,
this whiskey goes down easy, smooth as a sow's ear, belly up and suck
another, you're in the clear. Every day deception, faking a motive, a
regular jokes "This is where I live" apprasing each intruder, one tipsy
glimpse of them, loyal to a forgotten stratagen. Get on in, shake off
the road, don't you know that you're blocking the door? Unlucky lounge,
keeps her tables clean for you, forever darkness at noon. A vestige of
some former self saddles up slowly to the bar, she recieves the news
above, where the bottles stand, at least in here you take your luck wash
it down with a beer, you'll know soon enough, don't expect nothin' fancy
here, all you have is what we got.

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