My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus. It's that kind of morning.
Tonight I just need my guitar.
I don't get tired of playing "Margaritaville". It's paid my bills for years.
Without geography you're nowhere.
Barmaid, bring a pitcher, another round of brew. Honey, why don't we get drunk and screw?
Mr. Bear, you know in the eyes of the Lord, we're both beasts.