Merchant, John Taylor, Mindi Abair - Dead Days & Gatorade Lyrics

A light comes pouring through
A couple Advil a cup of 1942
Another pack of lies
Another cigarette
Another sleepless night
Maybe I've had enough of the pills and the chardonnay and the girls I don't even know
I've had enough of the dead days Gatorades and the mornings I spent alone
And if I called I'm sorry
I thought I wouldn't make it on my own, own, own
My head sunk through the floor
30 milligrams to get me out the door
Another taxi ride
Another cigarette
Another stupid fight
Maybe I've had enough of the pills and the chardonnay and the girls I don't even know
I've had enough of the dead days Gatorades and the mornings I spent alone
And if I called I'm sorry
I thought I wouldn't make it on my own, own, own
Dead days and Gatorade
Dead days and Gatorade
I don't need your touch on me to be alright
I don't need your touch on me to be alright
Maybe I've had enough of the pills and the chardonnay and the girls I don't even know
I've had enough of the dead days Gatorades and the mornings I spent alone
And if I called I'm sorry
I thought I wouldn't make it on my own, own, own
Dead days and Gatorade
Dead days and Gatorade

A light comes pouring through
A couple Advil a cup of 1942
Another pack of lies
Another cigarette
Another sleepless night
Maybe I've had enough of the pills and the chardonnay and the girls I don't even know
I've had enough of the dead days Gatorades and the mornings I spent alone
And if I called I'm sorry
I thought I wouldn't make it on my own, own, own
My head sunk through the floor
30 milligrams to get me out the door
Another taxi ride
Another cigarette
Another stupid fight
Maybe I've had enough of the pills and the chardonnay and the girls I don't even know
I've had enough of the dead days Gatorades and the mornings I spent alone
And if I called I'm sorry
I thought I wouldn't make it on my own, own, own
Dead days and Gatorade
Dead days and Gatorade
I don't need your touch on me to be alright
I don't need your touch on me to be alright
Maybe I've had enough of the pills and the chardonnay and the girls I don't even know
I've had enough of the dead days Gatorades and the mornings I spent alone
And if I called I'm sorry
I thought I wouldn't make it on my own, own, own
Dead days and Gatorade
Dead days and Gatorade