Bottom of the Bottle of Beer

Bottom of the Bottle of Beer

Cigarette butt, at the bottom, of the bottle of beer
Left a bad taste, this morning, when I found you weren’t here
I’m a bottle on the ocean
With a desperate note inside

You were nimble, but not too quick, when you bumped my candlestick
Left the linen, spattered, you buried the wick
I’d rather handle a ball of fire
Than to smother deep desire

There’s a cold draft from the front door you opened, but never closed
A porch light left burning from dusk till dawn
I’d face an ice storm on the barren plain
Than to feel this numb again

Cigarette butt at the bottom of the bottle of beer
Cigarette butt at the bottom of the bottle of beer