Jason McCoy, here, has a lurid, desperate, self loathing quality, and the song is obsessed about a woman who "aint missing missing him". The track has a tabloid restraint, where silences replacing details, and loud noise work in the place of sexual explicitness.

Listen to how he sings two lines at the one minute mark--where McCoy talks about a lover doing things he dont, and wont. He gives a long space of rangy, wiry guitar, before adding the word anymore. In those seconds, our minds grow any large with all sorts of decay. Anymore suggests they did that kind of decadence together.

McCoy does this kind of song well because he still believes in sin (there is a song on this album called I Feel a Sin Coming On) but also pleasure. The two break apart into something wilder then much standard country, and even his most tender ballads have an isolating despair.

From his greatest hits.

YSI here