Very much vodka and too much tequila: those are the ways I learned to deal. Across against the light and the sleet scalds my sight, stunned I stayed put and a billboard truck runs over my foot. So things are really hopping; and my unemployment's stopping; and my kitty cat's copping; and I need to forget. So I go to the window and smell a cigarette.

Now I'm in the clutches of my crutches: I'm laid up, and I sip from my cup, and I look outside. And I see Christopher Hyde-who just got divorced, and there's a restraining order enforced-going in his ex-wife's garage. I'm just drunk enough to open the window, yell out gruff:

œDon't you key that brand-new Camry.? And he gave me the cursor, œDamn,? returning to the spot he was, œMind your own business you!? And I wag my finger, œYou're not doing what you're supposed to do.?

And then he's coming toward me, and I took a swig of my tequila ˜cause it made me feel a little nervous as he started across against the light: but he didn't look to his right as he didn't stay put. And a billboard truck came and ran over his foot.

And the cops responding called out to me, œHey is this your cat?? œYeah, but sometimes it forgets. Ah, wait a minute. I gonna come out there and smell a couple a cigarettes.?

Don't you hurry-worry with me¦