I don't feel any real intoxication
From bourbon whiskey, or the scotch, or the rye
And I don't hear damn near any singing
From the birds at my window or in the sky
Since you've gone, my present just gets past me
And my future seems to always be a day away
And in the time that's gone by here without you
My present just gets past me every day
Since you've gone, my present just gets past me
And my future seems to always be a day away
And in the time that's gone by here without you
My present just gets past me every day
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