If I drink from the empty jar, do I swallow Will it be my pride, or the things I hide inside and cried over, And if temptation offers itβs hand do I spit in it, Do a bat my eyelashes, Do I grin at it Do I sin, and take hold of a dream up in ashes
If an empty jar calls me like a seashell song, do I press my lips to its rim And drink from within The drink that is desert air, Dry as my skin As empty as my hands And do I grin When it fills up again