Days gone by, I wonder where I've been to

Days to come, I wonder what I'll see

I just cannot recall the things that used to mean the world

Another slug from my jug is all there is for me...

Soft are my bones, although, I'm not that old.

Had a loving family, so I've been told

I've tried to quit more than I care to think

Every time that I'm on that road it seems I need another drink...

So it seems in my happy hour.