start pouring the wine;
fire goes down your throat
and everything is fine.
the rain keeps right on falling
forty days and forty nights
and as you lay there drowning,
you scream "everything's alright!"
as the glass keeps rising,
and flalling everyday
and you keep on lying
saying everything's okay.
"can i have another?"
"can you pour one more?"
until all that's left is an empty shell,
a liquid demon's whore.
