Anxiety felt like burnt champagne
Searing as it went down, down, down
Wrong bottle, wrong taste
Sour smells, bitter waste

Anxiety felt like burnt champagne
Flat and dry against the roof
Choking, choking
Drowning, drowning

Anxiety felt like the Wrong Thing To Drink
But I kept drinking anyway
Cause it’s the the last thing in a forgotten bar
And who am I without it?