BOTTOM OF THE BOTTLE

The bottom of my bottle is my only friend, I hold my lust until the end, I can't complain it's all I know, it's no joke, I drink until I choke, go back to a reminder, that relapse to my failures, unforgiving contastrafies, only lead me to anger, I can't forgive, I rather shiv, I don't listen, I only want the attention, and the bottle does just that, it gives me everything I've ever wanted, numbness, courage and honest, the bottom helps me see past my wickedness, until I refill it, then I start seeing evil deeds again, I'm not in the wrong, I've never been, I drink just to relax myself, then forget again and again, what did I say to put you in you're head, why can't you hear what I said, this bottle lays with me in bed, its my life, I take it to the head, then brast out on every target I see ahead, regardless friends or family, you're a target, the bottle is my friend, you're broken led in the trashcan, my end is high demand, and my bottle is my front to the end, so I just shun all you're sins, judge you for being a horrible being, and diss you until the end, I'm perfect, because I'm Christian, I'm automatically going to heaven, with bottle on my lap, and beer on my breath, my reality is on rest, imma always be the best, because I wear a long dress, and hide from my obsession, that could lead me to rehab, but I doubt it, I'm to perfect to get infected, my bottle is to loyal to be rejected.