My Blood Type Is Whiskey

“They told me to bleed red… but mine runs amber.”

Doctor shook his head, said I ain’t right, Veins full of fire, no cross in sight. Every prayer I tried just turned to smoke, So I found my gospel at the bottom of the oak.

My blood type is whiskey, My veins don’t run dry. I’m living on the bottle, And I’ll drink till I die.

No needle, no preacher, can save this soul, I’m branded by liquor, it’s all I know. The sun comes up but I don’t heal, Just pour me another, and I’ll keep it real.

My blood type is whiskey, It keeps me alive. If heaven’s got a barroom, That’s where I’ll arrive.

I ain’t no saint, I ain’t no king, But pour me a glass and I’ll confess everything. The truth ain’t clean, it’s burned and stained, Whiskey’s my blood, and it carries my name.

My blood type is whiskey, My veins don’t run dry. I’ll ride with the bottle, Till the day that I die.

“Amber never lies…”

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