Them stories that you tell me are so hard to swallow.
You said "Go to Hell," but I know you'd just follow.
The future's closing in quicker than you think,
and hanging with you I know why Henry drinks.
Those obnoxious drunks downstairs are fighting and cussing.
And twelve years of me and you don't add up to nothing.
You say what's on your mind -- tell it to your shrink.
So he can know, like me, why Henry drinks.
It's a few more hours till the sun comes back around.
To tear each other down and drink another round.
Lost it on the way and I'm hating what we found.
Mendacity and grudge-fucks and pieces out of town.
I drink half a case of beer on my way home from work.
Daddy needs his medicine to keep his hands off Mama's throat.
Baby, push a little harder, 'cause you got me on the brink
of spilling more than guts about why Henry drinks.