Whiskey Rains and Last Call Pains: A Morning in the Kitchen

I’m walking in the kitchen in the morning Don’t know how I’m supposed to weather this storm When it whiskey rains, it whiskey pours You ain’t mine but I’m still yours Drinking I forget I ain’t getting you back Running up a tight dash, kicking my, kicking my ass Pull another, make it twice as strong Last call’s calling but you still ain’t gone How the hell’s your memory hanging on like that?