Cork

[Verse 1]
Bottle of red? or a bottle of white?
I didn't think she really drank much. actually, at all
It was just a fragment of my mind that actually thought she would want to booze with me
I felt obliged to create this facade of us or at least some sort of satisfying conversation

[Verse 2]
And thats where i fell short of realising who she was
And how intensely interesting she was
There was no need for wine, no need for whiskey
Even though whiskey always seemed immensely needed

[instrumental]

[Verse 3]
I was a head case, i-i felt anxiously un smooth
Even though she always made me feel anti anxious and semi quaint
As this thinking and back and forth of booze or no booze came to an end
She finally admitted to me that she didn’t care for wine
She cared for the bottle of wine
Not red or white, but for the cork
The dry, stained, memory filled cork
Memory filled cork that could be salvaged as i doused the savory liquid