You stood in the bar with your cigarette lit, begging someone to put you down. Drive your car across town like a flash of fire from a barbecue pit. When my hand was cut, blood sprayed your walls and you rushed to find me a bandage. If you were my friend, I never understood. You'd drive me to death if you had the chance to. You would save me from it all, if you thought that you could. Just by saying goodbye. Don't be like me, friend. If the world was just a cut, you were drowning it enough to get everybody drunk with that whiskey that you love. Maybe you never learned a thing. Maybe you're still the same old man. Maybe you learned it all before the day you and I met. I saw you selling groceries. Wondered if you sing at all. Wondered do you still get drunk. Wondered will I see you soon? I remember when you laughed when I said goodbye to Jessi. When I said maybe I'd see her soon. And I said maybe never again. So you still hold the magic fire? Do you still laugh at it at night? Do you still know the secret song?