Picture it: two hands, refusing to be torn—

now think on: one hand, alone and it’s lovelorn.

Imagine: two laughing faces, smiling into the dawn—

think about: one crying face with nothing left and no one.

Can you tell that I’m thinking farewells?

Can you tell that I’m drinking farewells?

-

Oh, well,

there’s no lover like the bottom of a bottle—

and when I’ve had my fill and started to mottle

I take another shot—another dose—

another drink of this, my antidote:

it’s like drinking nails,

it’s like landing tails,

it’s like greeting jails:

Bottling Farewells—

drink you some farewells!

-

Oh, can’t you see this is your story, child, and it’s my story

You see this is their story? Well, mostly her story, to me.

-

“Then why don’t you write it down?”

“Write it down? Well, I’d never thought of that.”

-

Write it down, you say, write it down?

I can’t, you see, you’d lose the sound

of the agony and the pity—

and the irony and the witty

refrains!

-

“My…write it down. Well, I suppose I could try.”

“Anything’s worth a shot…I suppose.”

“Well…I could but—”

-

No! I can’t just write it down

for you see, you need the sound

of the—I’ve done this bit before, haven’t I?

Many, many times…have I? Lucy, haven’t I?

Haven’t I let you down?

No more sunsets,

no more laughing faces…

-

“Well, there’s always beer…I guess.”

“Beer…? My, you’re right.”

-

I should be a brewer for the taste

of tears are a fine concoction

but nothing will I do in this haste—

I find myself at the auction!

Oh, what can I buy?

Oh, what can I sell?

Oh, can’t I just die?

Oh, which way is hell?

-

Down? Down is it? Down, you say?

I say hell is here all around—this

town! Town, is it? Town, I say!

Yes! I said this town is hell—miss!

Won’t you agree?

Listen, you’ll see:

-

That there’s a bit of physics to tipping the bottle

because at first a little will come out, and then a lot’ll

because: as you drink away your sorrows

you only get sadder….blast it!

Let this be a lesson to you...

“…or some moral junk like that. Now, where was I?”

-

Ah, yes!

There’s no lover like the bottom of a bottle—

and when I’ve had my fill and started to mottle

I take another shot—another dose—

another drink of this, my antidote:

it’s like drinking nails,

it’s like landing tails,

it’s like greeting jails:

Bottling Farewells—

so drink you some farewells!