He used to be a young man with good humour, intellect.
A man you could be proud of and respect
His mind controlled his body, a strong man through and through.
The alcohol now tells him what to do.
The world looks on the drunk as a pitiful sight,
If he met himself he would have such a fright.
He is just a loser locked inside his skull,
pathetic, self-centred and dull.

Chorus:

The gutter is full of low life’s and bums,
Who are stopping tomorrow but it never comes.
This downward spiral is always their fate,
but, they never know it until it’s too late.

He once was a father whose children were proud,
to walk along beside him in a crowd.
Now he’s acting stupid and playing with their minds,
They’d rather walk a hundred yards behind.
The inadequate drunk is a slave to the booze,
within his false world he has nothing to lose.
He thinks that his humour and loudness are cool,
But all that you see is a fool.

Chorus:

The gutter is full of low life’s and bums,
Who are stopping tomorrow but it never comes.
This downward spiral is always their fate,
but, they never know it until it’s too late.

His future is staring in the glass or the can,
the booze will destroy what’s left of the man.
His brain cells diminished will make him more prone,
to the weakness of mind and the heart made of stone.
His parents are now frantic with worry every day,
His liver is damaged, his speech in disarray.
When will he realise that worry is no fun,
don’t want to lose a father and a son.

Chorus:

The gutter is full of low life’s and bums,
Who are stopping tomorrow but it never comes.
This downward spiral is always their fate,
but, they never know it until it’s too late.