Oh, Lit, wow, I had forgotten about this song. Probably because I was drunk when I was listening to it. It’s a damn fine tune, Lit. Although reading the interview with y’all that accompanied the lyrics to this one, you sound like a gigantic bunch of douches. Which is unfortunate, because I’d rather not give you credit for making such a great tune while you’re bragging about Jager and lying to a bunch of women.
But who am I to judge, Lit? After all, this song might as well have been my anthem back in the day. Maybe it was and I just don’t remember. There are too many mornings to count where I woke up with no memory of the night before. And I was the king of the drunk dial, and this was in the day before cell phones or even caller ID, so I had no way of knowing who I called or when. Besides just the awful feeling of being hung over, there was nothing worse than that persistent feeling of dread trying to remember who I talked to and what I said. There was more than one occasion where I called the phone company in a panic asking if they had any record of my outgoing calls, to no avail. Typically, as the day wore on, events would slowly materialize, or someone would tell me something I did and I could kinda remember it. But I could never remember what I said. Maybe it’s because I’m more of a visual person. Because that’s the lesson here, Lit, my communication style.
Anyway, Lit, I’m still my own worst enemy, but these days I can’t blame the alcohol. I can do bad all by myself, as they say. And while I would like to think this would have been my anthem back in the day, it’s clearly too awesome to be related to me. But don’t let that go to your head, douchebags.