Binks Booze Lyrics Novels & Stories

A tired-looking bartender was wiping down the counter, his face etched with exhaustion. "Whiskey, neat," I requested, taking a seat at the bar. The bartender silently poured me a drink, his attention focused on the television screen playing a silent movie. I took a sip, momentarily soothing the ache in my chest with the burning sensation of the alcohol. "You seem troubled," the bartender remarked, breaking the silence. "Just reflecting on my past," I whispered in response. The bartender nodded, his gaze still fixed on the television screen. "We all have our own ghosts," he murmured, barely audible.

The bass hit me the second I stepped inside. Music. Lights. People who didn’t care who you were or what you’d done, as long as you wore a mask and left your real life at the door. I wasn’t here to hide — I was here to forget. The bartender recognized me. “Back again?” he asked, sliding me a glass before I even spoke. I nodded, taking a sip. The vodka burned in that good, clean way that reminded me I was still alive. “Rough night?” he asked.

The bartender, a grizzled man with a shaggy beard, approached me with a questioning look. "What can I get you?" he asked, his voice rough as nails. "I'm trying to forget tonight ever happened," I replied, meeting his gaze with my tired eyes. He held my gaze for a moment before nodding in understanding. He reached under the counter and produced a single bottle of clear liquid; he poured me a glass and set it in front of me. I took a sip, the alcohol burning a path down my throat; I needed to feel this so that I wouldn't think about Alfred and Madeline. Another shot was poured, and then another, each one numbing the ache in my chest a little more.

"Especially when she's helping me steal money from you losers." "What about those Brixton babes?" Clint asks me as he pours whiskey into shot glasses and hands them out. Sober me knows that mixing beer with spirits is just asking for the mother of all hangovers, but drunk me knocks the shot back and requests another. "I bet their snatches are so tight you come on entry."

*** **3 Weeks Later** The bass thumped through the floor of the club, a steady beat that matched the headache building behind my eyes. I leaned against the bar, wiping down a glass, pretending to listen as a drunk asshole slurred out something about buying me a drink. I didn’t bother looking up. “You’re the bartender,” he drawled, his breath reeking of whiskey. “You ever take a break? Maybe let a guy keep you company, I could pleasure you really well with my tongue?” I forced a tight-lipped smile, the kind that never reached my eyes. “I don’t drink while I work.”

Linda defended me. “All I am saying is that she must think more before speaking.” “Can we change the subject?” my best friend offered, knowing what I might be thinking. “Yeah, let’s listen to some music and stop talking!” I commanded, then played The sound of madness by Shinedown, humming the words with the singer. “They don't know, where we've been We got that concrete street skin The only way I'm leavin' is dead That's the state of my, state of my, state of my head”

Justin groans, opens the dashboard and retrieves his pistol and tucks it on his waist and covers it with his shirt. " Don't shoot your ass boy." I joke and he grunts. " This is a bad idea." He murmurs, following behind me. " Oh come on, don't jinx the operation. It's going to be fun, you'll see. " I reassure him. The bouncer opens the door for us and we are immediately greeted with loud music, a few naked women dancing on poles and drunk people all over the place. I grab Justin by his arm and drag him to the bar.

"Well, there's broken silence By thunder crashing in the dark." Lips syncing to the song playing in the small device Bree gave me, I took a sip from the dark bottle. At first it burned my throat and everything within, but after a few gulps, this became heaven. I felt afloat, like I was on cloud nine, or perhaps way over it. Into the space among the stars. "And this broken record Spin endless circles in the bar." Another sip, and I began to spin, a giggle resounding off the walls in our room.

He appears so causally as if we didn't talk about my upcoming wedding. "One glass of whiskey please." He tells the bartender. "Your fiancé has came." The bartender smiles at me. I wish he was my fiancé. Un-break my heart Say you love me again Undo this hurt you caused When you walked out that door And walked out of my life Un-cry this tears I cried so many night "He's not my fiancé." I tell him. The bartender shies and started handing Nick his own drink. "One vodka please." I say right away.

“You look as good as the day I met you I forget just why I left you, I was insane Stay and play that Blink-182 song That we beat to death in Tucson, okay I know it breaks your heart Moved to the city in a broke-down car, and Four years, no call Now I'm looking pretty in a hotel bar And I, I, I, I, I can't stop No, I, I, I, I, I can't stop So, baby, pull me closer In the back seat of your Rover That I know you can't afford Bite that tattoo on your shoulder Pull the sheets right off the corner Of that mattress that you stole From your roommate back in Boulder We ain't ever getting older,”