Lyrics

Three sheets to the wind
The ropes of my ship loose and weakened
We’re drowning in waves just for the days of the weekend
Oh, the weekend
Fire and rain burn the remains which impend
Guilt ridden shame should cause a refrain but we can’t we can’t we can’t

Oohhh,
Please pardon the weeds in my garden
Oohhh,
While I call shotgun on the wagon

Three sheets to the wind
It rips at my skin boiling blood from within
The wagon wheels spin steady and stronger than the wind

Oohhh,
Please pardon the weeds in my garden
Oohhh,
While I call shotgun on the wagon

Colour in the lines
This life is so divine
I think I’ve done my time
Burning woods and feeding pine

Burn up these sheets drenched in my sweat and filled with regret