The Well - Intellectual

[Verse 1]

Oh, Lord, save me from myself

This bottle's looking mighty fine

And her smile and her cigarette

Make me wish I was young again

She’s leaning in, and I know

That I could take her home

But somehow, the thought of you makes me

Stop myself

And Lord, save me from myself

But do they want you to?

And Lord, If these are your children

Why don't they look like you?

And I read somewhere that what you've done to the least of these

You have done to me

But I’d rather drown my soul

And feed it to the wolves I've seen

So I'll stare down the bottom of this glass

'Till I forget her

Yeah, I'll stare down the bottom of this glass

Until she's gone

Yeah, I'll stare down the bottom of this glass

'Till I forget her

Yeah, I’ll stare down the bottom of this glass

’Till she's gone

'Till the well runs dry

’Till the well runs dry