Empty bottles on the table
Black roses on the ground
Silhouettes of people dancing
To an unfamiliar sound
Hello stranger, can I call you a friend?
My friend, I'm going down
With empty bottles on the table
Black roses on the ground
Brown bottle sits with the permanent bliss
Razor sharp glass lips, give me a kiss
Eyes fixated with the familiar shape
Black label, white letters, they integrate
Cupid's in the bar room with harpoons
I bloom in the night fog like mushrooms
See every bullet hole in the window of my past
Now that's what I call a shot glass (2, 3, 4)
Empty bottles on the table
Black roses on the ground
Silhouettes of people dancing
To an unfamiliar sound
Hello stranger, can I call you a friend?
My friend, I'm going down
With empty bottles on the table
Black roses on the ground
Count the cracks on the sidewalk
Pack the cigarette box in my left palm
Flame on the tip of a smoke
I don't know where the light came from
