Square Room - Vic Chesnutt

Sitting in a square room

My voice is freezing

And the beams that are bouncing off the moon

Are hanging from my window like icicles

Just a tired old alcoholic, waxing bucolic

Shivering and homesick

Staring at a wooden floor

Staring at a wooden floor

Last night I nearly killed myself

Chasing rum with rum

There were crows flying all around my head

And I sure caught and ate me some

It’s funny how I alienated

Those who I was trying just so

So hard to impress

Now half those f**kers hate me

And I’m just a fool to all the rest

Why do I insist on drinking myself to the grave

Why do I dream about cozy coffin

I had all these plans of great things to accomplish

But I end up purely pathetic more than often