"What can I get 'ya?"

A bucket of tears - straight, no chaser.

"That it?"

and a heart that won't stop breaking.

"What do you know?"

I don't believe in karma and if you went to war, too
I doubt you would either. 

"Ain't that a thing."

I'm hanging on by a thread. 
I'm barely on this side of dead.
But at least I'm still living, 
even if it ain't much of a life. 
Every once in a while 
I'm able to fake half a smile.
But most every morning 
I wish 
I wouldn't have woken up,
Then I think: "it ain't all bad. 
it's just 
the worst heartache 
that I've ever."

"Well if that don't beat all."

I deserve more, 
I deserve better. 
I don't deserve any of this
and none of this deserves me. 

"I hear you, bub."

Someday I'll be glad that I made 
every last one of my mistakes. 
'Til then I'll just sit 
and sip on this heartache.

"Well, it was good to see you."

With the truth as my compass 
and desire, my map.

"You taking off, then?
Glad you stopped in; 
I'll see you the next time you blow through town."

A man walks out of a bar.