It’s a crying shame, there’s no one to blame

No one other than me, so here is my plea

I took one trip too many, until there weren’t any

Frosty cold beers left, none to borrow from my peers

Three days from payday, nothing left for me to say

I suppose I’ll just do without, maybe sit and pout

My fridge has no soul with a beer shaped hole

My thirst grows by the hour, my mood is sour

I don’t know what I’ll do, how I’ll get through

I guess I’ll be sober for now, but mark my vow

I’ll send a prayer to the girl in the moon

Hopeful she will bless me with more of the High Life real soon.