Speechwriters LLC - Blood on the Frets lyrics

Just another westside story A California kid out to drink himself to glorious excess tonight I'm dressed to fight, and maybe get my sh** together if it sets just right 'Cause I've been walking like a hawk with too much on my mind Staring at the clock and taking what I can find To let the tension increase I need a tension release To find some quiet for my head and not to mention some peace So it's a no tie, bringing Y.O.B. affair People getting stupid and forgetting their cares It's just a Saturday scene, you know what I mean I find some people in the crowd to stick myself in between Soft-spoken, pot-smoking through the broken-down curls But I never hit my stride with the southern-fried girls This one's got a sun dress, the other's got pearls Nice and easy on the eyes but never rocking my world And now I'm homebound thinking 'bout a girl that I shouldn't Start to write a letter though I told myself I wouldn't Pine away for her, I'd pray for her, if I thought there was a God Who'd let me stay with her Did she get my last tape, did she think it was great Did she kick herself again for not remaining my mate Or did she throw it away, get on with her day And cuddle up against a lover in the usual way My eyes are wet, there's blood on the frets And something's telling me that this is good as it gets Until the next go-round, I've got to slow down Or I'll be just another topic for the talk of the town I got a brand new cell, but it's the same old hell I'm just a walking sack of sorrow with a story to tell But in a city of sh**, who's got the patience to sit And watch a broken-hearted emissary throwing a fit The bile rising up in my throat's straight acidic My record with the women like Ted's at Chappaquiddick It's the wrong track, but you can never go back And now I'm down and out the mission with a head full of flak It's holding me upright, but making me uptight And bouncing out my speakers so it's keeping me up nights I'm broken in two but what the f** can I do I try to clear my mind but only find I'm thinking of you 'Cause while the lovers make love in moonlit parks I'm drinking Heineken and playing with myself in the dark I like to think that you're mine, and everything's fine That I could take you home tonight and not be way out of line My eyes are wet, there's blood on the frets And something's telling me that this is good as it gets Until the next go-round, I've got to slow down Or I'll be just another topic for the talk of the town