Everybody down in Houston calls him "Texas". Everybody way up North calls him "Cornbread". You shoulda heard the way that his momma called him "baby", Daddy called him "boy", his friends call him "crazy".
Dallas Winston. Boy, was he something else. He was tough and mean and cold. He was rude and a trouble maker. He was always in the cooler or runnin' from the cops. One time, a friend of his from Houston came up. He called Dallas, "Texas," or "Tex." His friends around here just called him crazy.
Shoulda just called it like I saw it. Shoulda just called for help and ran like hell that day. The burn and the sting, and the high, and the heat, and the "left-me-wanting-more" feeling when he kissed me. I shoulda just called him "Whiskey".
I met him at a party. He was drunk and had asked me to dance. Everything in me was telling me not to do it, but I did it anyway. He kissed me that night too. It was sloppy and tasted like whiskey. But it was everything I wanted.
Warm my body to the core just like a blanket. His face was so sweet then he took my breath away. Hit me so hard like a rock through a window. I knew I was in trouble from the moment I met you, boy.
I was love driven crazy to think he would change. He was trouble and I knew it. I ignored all the warnings from my friends and the crazy looks I got from people on the street. I wasn't thinking when I agreed to be his girl. I was just thinkin about how much I loved that smirk. I was in trouble from the day I met him.
Shoulda just called it like I saw it. Shoulda just called for help and ran like hell that day. The burn and the sting, and the high, and the heat, and the "left-me-wanting-more" feeling when he kissed me. I shoulda just called him "Whiskey"
Dallas Winston was my first love. I doubted he'd ever loved me though. Now, I'll never know. He was gone. He was dead. Never coming back. He was still always going to be with me though. Dallas and his trouble making ways, his loud laugh, his sarcastic smirk, the smell of his leather jacket, everything about him. It left a scar. And scars never go away.
Now the numb has set in. He's gone like the wind. And I can barely feel the pain.
It didn't feel like he was gone. I didn't cry when they told me. It felt like he was going to come in and throw an arm around my shoulders and make a dirty joke about tonight. It didn't hit me till I went over to his room at Bucks. I walked in and everything was like he left it. Clothes everywhere, empty beer and whiskey bottles strewn about. He was gone. I sat down and cried and screamed and cursed his name. Dammit, why'd you have to leave?
Shoulda just called it like I saw it. I shoulda just called for help and ran like hell that day. The burn and the sting, and the high, and the heat, and the "left-me-wanting-more" feeling when he kissed me. The burn and the sting, and the high, and the heat, and the "left-me-wanting-more" feeling when he kissed me. I shoulda just called him "Whiskey". Shoulda just called him "Whiskey". I shoulda just called him "Whiskey".
I didn't regret him. I don't regret getting hurt and never knowing if he'd love me. Not one thing did I regret now nor would I ever regret. I was always going to love him. And he wasn't just Dallas to me. I called him Whiskey too. Cause him leaving, it felt just like a whiskey hangover. Except this hangover, wasn't gone by noon.