Borrowed Choppers

I wake up tasting ammo, copper, and regret. My molars got

a grudge, they're sour as they get. Every bite of steak turns bitter.

Every peach tastes like defeat 'cause my teeth been marinating in the

flavor of my grief. Grind, grind little bones. Chew the world

but never alone. So I borrowed me some choppers from a stranger in

the night. Polished 'em with whiskey, gave them back a little bite.

Now my corn tastes like candy. My ribs taste like sin. If your smile's

gone missing, darling, I know where it's been.