Little Drunk Fists

Little drunk fists across the tip of my chin
 Guess I should've known that they'd be there again
 Little drunk fists across the width of my jaw
 Gets sometimes to where I just don't feel them at all
 That's OK, I can wait another day
 For these stupid concessions to be made
 And you weren't to blame
 We put Jack and Johnny Walkers' names
 In the policeman's notebook when he came
 Little drunk fists need some time to their own
 Went out to meet some friends but ended up all alone
 Little drunk fists find and pick up a phone,
 But fumble on the numbers when they try to dial home
 Little drunk fists reach for just one more round
 But end up buying a sixth when the fifth hits the ground
 Little baby fists touch my face; clutch my nose,
 Though they'd rather touch their mother's, but she don't know
 Little drunk fists drove the car home last night,
 Turned left on Oak Street when they should have turned right