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May 2014
Before I could even count, you were drinking from that bottle.
Becoming stranger and stranger to me after each and every swallow.

One, Two, Three,
The time went on, and before I could count to ten you were already gone.

Four, Five, Six, Seven,
Before I knew it I was eleven. Still though nothing had changed, that bottle had always been around; it was really nothing strange.

Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven,
Thats all that she could take, she kicked you out the door; said she had made a mistake.

Twelve years was all it took.
To drive us all away.

But atleast you have your bottle, right?
To this very day.
Written by
Jocelyn Sharp  Canada.
(Canada.)   
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