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sang int that bottle
01/16/2011 @ 9:57am

Iíll give you a kiss, maybe lend you an ear
Then we can ask ourselves what weíre really doing here
Because weíve trapped ourselves with sh!t we donít care for
And all I really know is I canít move from this floor
Iím too drunk and this wood feels too d@mn good
There is just something comforting about hardwood

So you sang into that bottle, I didnít need any words
I just needed you to sing so I could drift from this world
Into that magical place I really donít understand
Where everything is pretty and Iíve got my own band
So you sang into that bottle with a muffled type of voice
But all I really needed was that pretty, daring noise.

I danced around the room, too drunk to truly dance
And you told me this might just be our very last chance
To drink with each other without a care in the world
I asked you just to sing; right now I canít hear those words
No we floated at the bottom of the bottle like ashes from a smoke
And every time you talked I wished you hadnít spoke
Just sing to me, we can worry in the morning
You gave me a smile that stood as a warning

We sat atop of your building so the manager wouldnít b!tch
I told you about how I was getting that traveling itch
Because I never learned how to plant roots, Iím a tumbleweed
You told me that I needed to do whatever I might feel Iíd need
And then you wrapped your loving arms right around me
I didnít knew what it was for what your intentions might be
How could I of guessed you were leaving me?

Iíll give you a kiss, maybe lend you an ear
Then we can ask ourselves what weíre really doing here
Weíve trapped ourselves with feelings that will never be real
Weíve never stopped to ask ourselves just how we might feel.
You sang into that bottle like you were singing to me
And I never stopped to ask what all of this could be.

So I hit the road the very next day to find a purpose
I needed a way to put myself into focus
But your voice always seemed to be calling to me
And every night I wondered what it could possibly be

By the time I got home it was erupting with the news
Your moms had found you, neck in a noose
A bottle of scotch on the table and something scribbled on the floor
ďDo you ever wonder what we were talking for?Ē
I sang a song on your rooftop one last time
I could not remove my mouth form the taste of cheap, red wine
Oh yes you told me that sometimes there was nothing you can do
You always said there are somethings you just need to do.

note: look kiddies, I learned self editing of the words of curse. You know,
because they aren't there now.

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