I've got a picture in my bedroom drawer   and I take it out just once a year   to prove to you I was alive before      I've got a flask inside my pocket   and I'll drink it if I want to   I don't need a hand to make me feel secure      but it's alright, I'm not asking for no faith   just leave me alone and I'll try to do the same   and it's alright, I just like the way you look at me   So God help me if I can't make that change      I've got a song I've sung about fifty times   but I keep slurring every other line   I say it's what keeps me honest when I write      but I've got backwards way of thinking   where the blacks and whites all get reversed   some kind of symphonic-like plight I hold so dear       but it's alright, I'm not asking for no faith   just leave me alone and I'll try to do the same   and it's alright, I just like the way you look at me   So God help me if I can't make that change      your lips are a tragedy   a genocide in a cacophony   of a sound that's not quite pure   played by a sad singer in an old hotel   on a piano bench at the ballroom bar   it's the only tune he knows   and now he's drunk as hell as he hits the keys   a hint stale perfume and cheap whiskey   the sights begin to blurr   he said "it was a small mistake,   it was a small mistake,   it was a small mistake"   it was a catastrophe      but it's alright, I'm not asking for no faith   just leave me alone and I'll try to do the same   and it's alright I just like the way you look at me   so God help me if I can't make that change      so I'll keep my eyes on yours if you keep yours on mine