Bottoming Out

I'm cruising fast on a motorcycle down this winding country road
And I pass the gravel on the foot of the hill
Where last week I fell off
There's still some oil by the old elm tree
And a dead squirrel that I hit
But if I hadn't left, I would've struck you dead
So I took a ride instead
Bottoming out, bottoming out
I'm bottoming out, bottoming out
My doctor says she hopes I know how lucky I can be
After all, it wasn't my blood mixed in the dirt that night
And we must really examine this
And I say I need another drink
Bottoming out
I'm tearing down Route Eighty East
The sun's on my right side
I'm drunk, but my vision's good, and I think of my child bride
I aim that bike at the fat pothole beyond that underpass
Bottoming out