These parched lips cry out for Drink,
Possessed with a demented desire to quench this Thirst.
This addiction to this liquid Love,
Leaves me panting with the need of your Curse.
My eyes come to rest on a Bottle that lies on the street.
What a sight for sore eyes to behold.
And You are there, my desperate craving, discarded and sweet,
Fluid fire of amber and gold.
Now, the mouth of the Bottle is broken.
Jagged daggers surround all the rim.
Yet I still bring the broken shards of glass to my lips.
And I punish my soul for my Sin.