Bottom of the bottle hits

licking your lips

shoot it down, down, down.

Passion in your heart strikes

like a fiery light

moving down, down, down.

I worship you

like an 80s child

when Bowie and Blondie

ran wild.

Steel light on trembling lips

I feel your anguish on fingertips

that travel across my spine.

From alters and shrines

I seek, I find

another sort of fix.

You can be the Cobain inside

drive me fuckin' wild

a heroin-kissed shot to the head.

Another sort of fix

now I am crawling

I am falling

down, down, down.