I'm cruising fast on a motorcycle. down this winding country road. And I pass the gravel on the foot of the hill. where last week I fell off. There's still some oil by the old elm tree. and a dead squirrel that I hit. But if I hadn't left I would have struck you dead. so I took a ride instead. Bottoming out. bottoming out. Bottoming out. bottoming out. My doctor says she hopes I know. how lucky I can be. after all it wasn't my blood. mixed in the dirt that night. But this violent rage turned inward. can not be helped by drink. And we must really examine this and I say. I need another drink. Bottoming out. bottoming out. Bottoming out. bottoming out. I'm tearing down Route 80 east. the sun's on my right side. I'm drunk but my vision's good. and I think of my child bride. And on the left in shadows. I see something that makes me laugh. I aim that bike at the fat pothole. beyond that underpass. Bottoming out. bottoming out. Bottoming out. bottoming out. Bottoming out. bottoming out. Bottoming out. bottoming out.