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Description
She just can't keep her head out of the basement
The wine cellar
Drowning herself in pinot and chardonnay
From 1984
Please don't disturn her thoughts,
Her movements,
Her monologues
Finish that last glass of port while it's still chilled
And recycle the bottle

Don't worry
She'll come up for air when she's finished all the wine from the year she was born
That could take eons
When she's finished that last casket
She'll need another to stick her corpse in
I'll carve it from the tree in her backyard
Widdle it from a single piece of wood
Stick the cadaver in it before it can ferment
While the grapes of wrath grow ripe upon the vine
That strangles the tree in her backyard
And their harvest quickly approaches

But the body in the casket won't belong to her
I reserve that spot for me
I promised years ago I would cremate her
It's my job as her creator
So I'll answer the call of duty
Spread her ashes in Napa Valley
So she can become an ingredient in the poison that did her in

She was born with the ability to turn wine back into water
Turn hatred into love
Turn adults back into children
Turn photos into songs
Turn bedsheets into lingerie
With nothing but a touch or a smile

But then the day would come that she would turn fourteen
She had reached her peak
She went downhill from there
Wine stopped getting changed into water
Instead she refined it into urine
She hasn't been sober since

I think it's because she saw the light that had laid dormant in her for years
But since she can't walk a straight line
She'll never be able to reach it
So she blacked-out every night on the living room floor
With a bottle in one hand
And a razor in the other

Every morning I woke up earlier than the birds
I sacrificed my sleep to clean the mess left on the carpet
Wondering each time if it was the blood of grapes
Or if she had finally been sober enough to hold the blade parallel to her veins
Oh please, I beg you not to judge me
I didn't want her dead
I just hated having to spectate
I hated this routine
Of watching her suffering
Because of things she didn't understand

She knows the boys all love her
She's aware the men can't stand her
But nobody can have her
Unless they can pay the price
Of living with her burden
The wiser you are
The better your chances
Wisdom comes with age

So she'd court men outside of her demographic
A new twenty-something every single week
Who was whealthy enough to buy her vintages
Then he would take advantage of her state
Of eternal intoxication
She couldn't feel a thing
She couldn't even taste the wine
Just the vomit in her mouth
Which was ninety-seven proof
Which would explain why all the men who kissed her
Fell drunk with lust

I was lucky enough to never touch her lips
Because I knew what she really wanted
Was to make me her final victim
Just part of her scheme to conquer every man in the world
To make all the ladies wish that ther were her
And the boys wish that they could spend
Just one night in her embrace
But the next morning they wake up with hangovers
Like needles in their brain
Regretting every moment that they spent by her side

I tried to warn her callers
She'll drink you to your grave
But they're all slaves to her outward appearance
And I see her as the monster that she is
Her mind's a three-ring circus
And she's the lion tamer

All the lions watch her every move
As she sways back and forth
From one man to another
Until she's sucked them dry
Migrating like a parasite
Examaning her prey with infinite scrutiny
Aware that what she's doing
Is against all moral standards

But we'll never see the aftermath of her apocolyptic trial
Because I follow behind her
Cleaning up her mess
No amount of detergent can cover up the smell
She swept under the carpet
With the skeletons in her closet
We'll be forever desperate
For this mobius strip to end
'Round and 'round and 'round we go
Empty every bottle
'Round and 'round and 'round I go
Cleaning up the deceased brain cells
Around I go again
Begging every being I see
To end this mobius strip

Description
She just can't keep her head out of the basement
The wine cellar
Drowning herself in pinot and chardonnay
From 1984
Please don't disturn her thoughts,
Her movements,
Her monologues
Finish that last glass of port while it's still chilled
And recycle the bottle

Don't worry
She'll come up for air when she's finished all the wine from the year she was born
That could take eons
When she's finished that last casket
She'll need another to stick her corpse in
I'll carve it from the tree in her backyard
Widdle it from a single piece of wood
Stick the cadaver in it before it can ferment
While the grapes of wrath grow ripe upon the vine
That strangles the tree in her backyard
And their harvest quickly approaches

But the body in the casket won't belong to her
I reserve that spot for me
I promised years ago I would cremate her
It's my job as her creator
So I'll answer the call of duty
Spread her ashes in Napa Valley
So she can become an ingredient in the poison that did her in

She was born with the ability to turn wine back into water
Turn hatred into love
Turn adults back into children
Turn photos into songs
Turn bedsheets into lingerie
With nothing but a touch or a smile

But then the day would come that she would turn fourteen
She had reached her peak
She went downhill from there
Wine stopped getting changed into water
Instead she refined it into urine
She hasn't been sober since

I think it's because she saw the light that had laid dormant in her for years
But since she can't walk a straight line
She'll never be able to reach it
So she blacked-out every night on the living room floor
With a bottle in one hand
And a razor in the other

Every morning I woke up earlier than the birds
I sacrificed my sleep to clean the mess left on the carpet
Wondering each time if it was the blood of grapes
Or if she had finally been sober enough to hold the blade parallel to her veins
Oh please, I beg you not to judge me
I didn't want her dead
I just hated having to spectate
I hated this routine
Of watching her suffering
Because of things she didn't understand

She knows the boys all love her
She's aware the men can't stand her
But nobody can have her
Unless they can pay the price
Of living with her burden
The wiser you are
The better your chances
Wisdom comes with age

So she'd court men outside of her demographic
A new twenty-something every single week
Who was whealthy enough to buy her vintages
Then he would take advantage of her state
Of eternal intoxication
She couldn't feel a thing
She couldn't even taste the wine
Just the vomit in her mouth
Which was ninety-seven proof
Which would explain why all the men who kissed her
Fell drunk with lust

I was lucky enough to never touch her lips
Because I knew what she really wanted
Was to make me her final victim
Just part of her scheme to conquer every man in the world
To make all the ladies wish that ther were her
And the boys wish that they could spend
Just one night in her embrace
But the next morning they wake up with hangovers
Like needles in their brain
Regretting every moment that they spent by her side

I tried to warn her callers
She'll drink you to your grave
But they're all slaves to her outward appearance
And I see her as the monster that she is
Her mind's a three-ring circus
And she's the lion tamer

All the lions watch her every move
As she sways back and forth
From one man to another
Until she's sucked them dry
Migrating like a parasite
Examaning her prey with infinite scrutiny
Aware that what she's doing
Is against all moral standards

But we'll never see the aftermath of her apocolyptic trial
Because I follow behind her
Cleaning up her mess
No amount of detergent can cover up the smell
She swept under the carpet
With the skeletons in her closet
We'll be forever desperate
For this mobius strip to end
'Round and 'round and 'round we go
Empty every bottle
'Round and 'round and 'round I go
Cleaning up the deceased brain cells
Around I go again
Begging every being I see
To end this mobius strip