Where You At, Mister Malone?

I woke up this morning
Hung over and weak
My eyes were all bloodshot
And my jacket reeked
Of the cigarettes I smoked
And the whiskey I drank
And the perfumes of girls
Whose faces were blank


I walked out around noon
To look at the sky
The trolley was wailing
My neighbor was high
On little white pills
And a funny grey smoke
He stared like a standup
Who forgot his own joke


I went out this evening
Just restless I think
Bought a handle of stuff
Almost too strong to drink
And I picked up some friends
Lit a fire and then
Laughed until it became
The next day again