Prompt:

When I hear a needle skipping on a scratched up groove. The ceiling fan hums a mechanical move, and when we set the glasses on the ground. That's when it's time to drink em down. Whoa-oh-oh-whoa-oh. Chorus: Cause the rye burns from my throat to my chest. A slow moving heat that puts the day to rest. The porch light flickers. The neighbors are asleep. Round after round. The secrets are getting deep. Whoa-oh-oh-oh. Mm-hm-mm-hm-mm. Verse2: It's Tuesday, the clock won't move. Past thinking now. The schedule says I'm the clock. Cold sweat breaks. I lose my breath I pass the exit, ignore the door find a corner, hit the floor. Whoa-oh-oh-oh. Chorus: Cause the rye burns from my throat to my chest. A slow moving heat that puts the day to rest. The porch light flickers. The neighbors are asleep. Round after round. The secrets are getting deep. Whoa-oh-oh-whoa-oh. Bridge: The inbox is dark. The briefcase is shut, I'm carving a hole in this Tuesday rut. The ties coming loose, I've cut the cord, I found my excuse to drink some more. Chorus: Cause the rye burns from my throat to my chest. A slow moving heat that puts the day to rest. The porch light flickers. The neighbors are asleep. Round after round. The secrets are getting deep. Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-ooh. Outro: Round after round. Oh. Whoa-oh-oh-whoa-oh. Round after round.... Round after round.....Mm-hm-mm-hm.