Empty Bottle
She found her meaning of life
And her Savior
At the bottom of every bottle.
In the middle of every drink.
Bloody,
Bloody,
Mary.
Every night--
Smoky bars,
No love,
Two packs of Reds.
It's the not-so-secret-formula
For loneliness
And tears.
Last call reminds
"You are this life"
The real meaning.
Then it all comes down to
The flame that's run out
Because every bottle is an empty bottle.