The bottle sits on the table half air half a concoction of my ow design
But then I guess is shouldn’t be surprised since I use it to free me from the demons in my mind
They say you can easily kick these habits and beat the depression
But lord have you ever tried?

Have you ever tried to finally kick
The habit when practicing you seem to fit
Into society, it was wrong but felt so right
Even though you knew it could end your life?

Have you tasted bitterness, smitteness, anger and hate
All in the same day so you play
With others feelings so you could enjoy
The ice cold taste of revenge on your plate?

I guess that’s what the bottle does to us
It eats at the bust and turns them into dust
We can be high as kites, then next full of spite
Happy as bedbugs and with childish delight
We can watch as we die hardly putting up a fight.

You know what, the hell with this, the bottle DIES TONIGHT.