He tries cutting the rope that holds him up tight, but the glass isn't sharp so he gives up the fight. He thinks maybe one more sip won't hurt like before, but as his liquor starts to drip he's hot wired to want more.
Tight, tight. The ropes pull with might, pulling him under the road out at night. His clock has been ticking and his time must be up, he let the drinking do the thinking, every cup he choked up.
He loves drinking bear. He loves staying out all night. It helps him cope with the fear and hides his problems out of sight. The ghost screams are silent. He won't hear me clearly now. Nothing's been solved since the start so i have to scream them part by part.
There are holes everywhere so please watch your step as the smoke fills the air. The empty road breaks like your bottle. The cracks in your skull shows your problems aren't subtle.