Rusted

I remember you
An artist in first grade
Mine was voted best but
I knew we should trade

Then I was a punk
Hitching to the city
He stopped in your Camaro
Girlfriend looking pretty

And now my little girl asked
Why you're in the gutter
Tell her who you were and
You begin to mutter

I may be drunk
But I can be trusted
Just a little bit rusted
A little bit rusted

Are you mad at me?
I say far from that
How you spent first grade
In a stocking cap

I was good boy then
My folks split up
Not to blame them, though, for
Turning out drunk

Well, you play shows
Don't drink doubles
Get'cha in trouble
Get'cha in trouble

There's some bad in me that
Comes from alcohol
Makes me smell like shit
Stumble down and fall

The road to Hell
Is strewn with friends
That killed themselves
To make amends

I may be drunk
But I can be trusted
Just a little bit rusted
A little bit rusted
A little bit rusted
A little bit rusted