I've tasted you at the bottom of bar glasses
your 'i love yous' reek of cheap scotch
and i am a recovering alcoholic
i refuse to taste the disappointment of your fingertips
you're still swallowing the night that the gun refused to fire
and I swear I can still hear the gun shot ringing in my ears
i wonder if I tied my own self loathing to my ankles if I would still be able to swim
in the ocean that is your love
or what was
There aren't enough narcotics to help me forget about your laugh
911 operators recited your suicide note to me
and I've heard my name enough times to want to drain my body
the bags under my eyes spell out
remorseful
and the tears on your grave aren't mine
but just know im coming home to you