I wake up Sunday morningnWith my mind all in a hazenTearstains on my pillownAnd make-up on my facenI see those empty whiskey bottlesnAnd records scattered on the floornAnd from the next room, I hear cryingnThen I remember the night beforennI saw her dancing at the partynSo young with laughter in her facenAnd when the others had departednConvincing words and she stayed latenAnd now those empty whiskey bottlesnThey stand accusing from the floornThat I hear footsteps as she's leavingnYes, she remembers the night beforennIf I could turn back the clocknTurn it back to yesterdaynThere are things I wouldn't donAnd things I wouldn't saynnBut now those empty whiskey bottlesnWithin my mind forevermorenAnd in the silence, I hear cryingnYes, I remember the night before