I let the sweet poison flow
Through my pickled veins
Growing heavy like curtains-
In your grandmother's house
-Heavy, stained, and dusty

I let the sweet poison burn,
Away with all my inhibitions
As it filled me with inky clouds
That ate my decisions
And spit out sunshine headaches
A drunken werewolf for sure

But now I throw my glasses
Against the wall-
I would rather walk on broken bottles
Than ever be at the bottom of one
Again