Your Passion, Our Purpose

Trashed

It really was a meeting.
The bottle took a beating.
The ladies of the manor
watched me climb into my car.
And I was going down the track
About a hundred and five.
They had the stop-watch rolling.
I had the headlights blazing,
I was really alive.
And yet my mind was blowing.
I drank a bottle of tequila
and I felt real good.
I had the tape deck roaring.
But on the twenty-fifth lap
at the canal turn,
I went off exploring.
I knew I wouldn’t make it.
the car just couldn’t take it.
I was turning, tires burning.
The ground was in my sky.
I was laughing,
the bitch was trashed.
And death was in my eye.
I had started pretty good
and I was feeling my way,
I had the wheels in motion.
There was Peter and the Greenfly
laughing like drains.
Inebriation.
The crowd was roaring
I was at Brands Hatch
in my imagination.
But at the canal turn
I hit an oily patch.
Inebriation.
Ooh Mr. Miracle,
you saved me from some pain.
I thank you Mr. Miracle.
I won’t get trashed again.
Ooh, can you hear my lies?
Don’t you bother with this fool
Just laugh into my eyes.
So we went back to the bar
and hit the bottle again.
But there was no tequila.
Then we started on the whiskey
just to steady our brains.
‘Cause there was no tequila.
And as we drank a little faster
at the top of our hill,
we began to roll.
And as we get trashed
we were laughing still.
Well bless my soul.

Trashed (1983) by Black Sabbath

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