My Present Just Gets Past Me

I don't feel any real intoxication

From bourbon whiskey, or the scotch, or the rye

And I don't hear damn near any singing

From the birds at my window or in the sky

Since you've gone, my present just gets past me

And my future seems to always be a day away

And in the time that's gone by here without you

My present just gets past me every day

Since you've gone, my present just gets past me

And my future seems to always be a day away

And in the time that's gone by here without you

My present just gets past me every day