The glass kisses my lips,
And the waves dance upon my tongue,
They burn ever so beautifully as they
Crash and break at the back of my throat,
Washing down, down, down.

My lips long for that sweet taste,
My mind yearns for that sweet embrace,
My heart aches for that sweet, sweet, sweet escape.

But I have to be careful,
Or I'll end up like him, and I can't do that to her,
She raised me better, better than that, better than he did her.

The twist of the cap or playful pop of the cork
Brings such sweet release,
But I fear I will render myself victim to it,
For as much as I want to,
It's not fair to them,
And so I stop and wait and find excuses,
Excuses, excuses.