I am a bottle with a broken neck
who once did shine on broken wrecks.
Now a glaze does cover grace
pretty secrets an open face.
Empty now, I have no ink;
all countless eyes around me blink
while many kings, once sober, drink
their fill of all I am.
Then cast aside, for my broken lip
did cut them - they, past final sip
did see the burn that comes with lies;
I look, I see no sober eyes.
Now, these men, in passion's cry
have cut themselves and left me dry;
Now animal where once was man
around him many bottles stand.
with empty heart and glutton eyes
he looks upon my beauty, sighs,
his fleshly fires inside him rise
and up and out the beast it cries.