This is the bar, I come to when I drink. This is my glass, Covered with fingerprints. Now I don't get rowdy, Go causing streets fights, But I've been known to sing show tunes Under the street lights. When I drink, it's about you, I think.
You like the moon, could drive a woman mad. You drove me this place, And now they're calling me a cab. Because all the pretty faces are starting to blur, I must look like the happiest girl in the world. When I drink, it's about you I think.
Every bar room love, ends like it begins: Over drinks, one or two, too many rounds. Not much at all, a few inches of liquid, That's all it takes for a person to drown. Sometime last week, sobriety on loan, I vowed I wouldn't write you, And I swore I'd never phone. Now I'd like to call you and check you're all right, But I don't know where you are spending your nights. When I drink, it's about you, I think When I drink, it's about you, I think