whole song: C F#m G G
[Verse 1 – The count up]
C F#mAll it takes is one shot—start feeling myself, devil knocking at my door.
G GAll it takes is two—pain goes numb, I’m “fine,” guess I need a little more.
C F#mAll I need is three to throw this weight of anxiety overboard.
G GBy the time it hits four, words blur, I don’t recognize me anymore.
C F#mThen it’s five, then six, I’m trippin’; by seven I know I’ll take eight.
G GNine says I’m home too late; ten is all it takes to paint the tape.
C F#mA night I won’t remember—life’s a bitch, I probably upset her.
G GFOMO got me chasing thrills I won’t respect when I remember.
[Pre-Chorus]
C F#mMy future self screams every sip I take: “You’re sinking, you can’t swim.”
G“Hit the brakes—somebody’s getting hit,”
Glike that stop sign I just missed.
[Chorus]
CThese spirits taking spirit from my soul,
F#mJack and Daniel stole the moments—whiskey’s taking tolls.
GTequila shots on rocks I’m trying to avoid—
Gthey hit, reopen wounds; now I’m drinking for a void.
Paying for my sins in the currency regret,
then spend it back on booze—knowing it won’t pay the debt.
[Verse 2 – The math]
I’m not happy with the path I chose—watered the tree, no wonder it grows.
I picture life sober, strike me a pose—
the image won’t develop, always over-exposed.
Subtract it—added to the places I go.
Divide it—multiplies in the after-show.
Sum of it all? I stall—can’t exponentially grow,
too drunk to climb that slippery slope.
[Pre-Chorus 2]
Why didn’t anyone say liquor’s still a drug?
That “living it up” is dying dressed up in a club?
I’m crying in the booth, talking back to God—
starting’s easy, quitting’s hard.
Feels like prison—everywhere I turn is bars.
Water turned to wine—maybe I missed the metaphor in that verse.
[Chorus – variant]
These spirits taking spirit from my soul,
Jack and Daniel stole the moments—whiskey’s taking tolls.
I pour to fill the silence, but I’m pouring out control;
I keep on buying numb and overdraft my hope.
[Bridge – turning point]
Found a note from future-me in my Notes at 2:03:
“Put the keys down, leave the glass—let this one leave.
If you need a lifeline, breathe—count with me:
every no you tell the bottle is a yes back to me.”
[Outro – reverse count to hope]
Ten shots taught me what I lose;
nine deep breaths, I let it bruise.
Eight steps back from the bar,
seven days watching the scars.
Six a.m. and I see light,
five missed calls I make right.
Four dry weeks, I still shake,
three hard truths I can’t fake.
Two hands steady on the wheel,
one red stop sign—and I finally feel.
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