A Pocketful of Smiles

Waking up in the morning is rough

With my best foe hangover

My mouth is dry, and the eyes groggy

And the head’s spinning over and over

But it’s not, half as bad

And it’s not, half as hell

With your smile, in my pocket

My ageing bike gives up again

The bugger won’t start no matter

And the auto guys are out to loot

And they won’t go by the meter

But it’s not, half as bad

And it’s not, half as hell

With your smile, in my pocket

Work’s a bitch and bites like one

I’m bruised from my head to my toe

It’s piling up like the garbage hill

There’s nowhere for me to go

But it’s not, half as bad

And it’s not, half as hell

With your smile, in my pocket