Its Tuesday and I already hit the bottle
I cant even fall in love at happy hour
I think Ill go home now and dream about
the nightmares that could be
like all my friends turning into my enemies
Youre good at pushing me out
Late that night I am awakened by the banshees cry
and I am much too scared to get a drink
I see the rusty swing set blow
from generations long ago
under moonlight the plow is stained
by the power of your name
Youre good at pushing me out
The farmers daughter raises hell
when I try to kiss her
screaming daddies now I run
heres to sickle swinging fun
Youre good at pushing me out
