I got a bottle in my hand 

Two on my left side 

And perhaps seven more on my mind

But none of them has proven to give me my peace of mind 

I don't know if the fault is from the brand 

Because I have drank from every kind

Probably anyone I can find 

But it looks like the more I change kind 

The more I go blind 

To the truths behind 

All these alcohols at my every side

I drank to stupor 

Till I got the feeling I was drowning in liquor 

Trying to stop but discovered I had become inferior

To the one thing that once made me feel superior to every mistake and flaw

To a point I could no longer feel insecure of any uncertainty or failure 

Said I was done this time for real

But couldn't let go of the feeling

I have when I've had my fill

I said I was done after this last batch 

But three more after that I could still feel the liquid running through my moustache 

Straight to my neck and landing on my trousers 

I said just this "one bottle"

But after four more bottles I began to feel the battle 

My desire and my discipline in a fierce struggle 

Over who will win the tussle 

And make my wishes come true 

I want to talk to somebody 

But I feel no one relates 

I want to look up to somebody 

But I feel there is no one I can emulate 

Then feeling deserted and desolate 

I turned back to my dear bottle it could never be too late 

And with a feeling of dejection resigned to fate