There’s a tale about a girl sending a message in a bottle
With her last hopes to an uncertain destination
To a heart she only speculates to care
Like a single connection could save cause
"The girl is an island unto herself"
What was I looking for at the bottom of the bottle
In carelessly shaking hands?
Some way of cutting off a bottle-fed reputation
But we all become a member of the family
By subtle efforts
Our relative mannerisms are brought to the table
I hit the same fork in the road
Where every path refused to lead me home
Cause it’s hard to pass up
Another drink, another drug, another dressed up girl to drive you off the edge to the holes that we’ve dug
We take it too far when it’s hard to say no.
And I know what you mean now.
You really did just want someone to talk to.