Type O Negative

You shot me through the screen door on the front porch

“Cause you didn’t want me driving your new car

I begged you to do something about that anger

I warned you that someday you’d go too far

I stumbled up the sidewalk badly bleeding

All the way uptown to Fokkers bar

And by the grace of god and that bartender

I survived the transport to ER

All that I wanted was to drink you off my mind

And I suppose, change the narrative of time

I needed every drop

That your cold heart could give

Type O. O, O negative

I heard you crying as they medics dressed me

You begged the doctor not to let me die

But if I did then you could keep your secret

And blame it on a thief in the night

All that I wanted was to drink you off my mind

Or, I suppose, change the narrative of time

I needed every drop

That your cold heart could give

Type O. O, O negative

Here we now

Well, I thank you every day for the transfusion

I thank you from the bottom of my heart

I promise to come visit you in prison

Oh, and btw babe, I sold your car

All that I wanted was to drink you off my mind

Or, I suppose, change the narrative of time

I needed every drop

That your cold heart could give

Type O. O, O negative

© Ê LEE HÄWKIN

A Jones For Self‑Destruction is a dark Americana / alt‑country EP — four songs from the quieter, rougher corners. If you’re into gritty storytelling and folk‑noir shadows, give it a listen.