I was sick with that old Margaret, for four years, near about / young, dumb and dumbstruck when Margie, she blew my candle out / I've got to have me a partner if I'm to sell it all / save the mirror I look best in, in the back of that dirty hall / stare through the beers and year and the bags and bruises fade / those grim lines turn sharp and fine, like laws the pilgrim laid / beaming through all the brag and cuss, promising the fall / at the mirror I look best in, in the back of that dirty hall / soak up their mislaid luck and the floor is a pond of p*** / the brown glass throws a face back / wondering how it came to this / something about being there at last makes a man stand tall / that's the mirror I look best in, in the back of that dirty hall / I can't take up another drink and fight them now no more / they're all moving, you're one of them, through that Old Holland door / I'm wishing for a pardon through h***se and hungry calls / towards the mirror I look best in, in the back of this dirty hall