Bottom of the Bottle

[Verse 1]
Old ghosts in the glass
Stare back when I sip
Name on a napkin
Blood on my lip
Clock on the wall
Won’t look me in the eye
Every swallow’s a prayer
Either black out or die
[Chorus]
I’m at the bottom of the bottle
Still on top of my regret
Drownin’ every memory
But they ain’t drowned yet
If I keep on pourin’
Maybe I’ll run out of sky
I’m gonna drink you off my conscience
’Til I forget or die
[Verse 2]
Barstool confession
To a stranger half asleep
He laughs when I tell him
I ain’t lookin’ for relief
I’m diggin’ my own well
Where the sun can’t reach inside
If the dirt don’t take my body
Maybe it’ll take my mind
[Chorus]
I’m at the bottom of the bottle
Still on top of my regret
Drownin’ every memory
But they ain’t drowned yet
If I keep on pourin’
Maybe I’ll run out of sky
I’m gonna drink you off my conscience
’Til I forget or die
[Bridge]
Bartender shakes his head
Says
“Son
That ain’t the way”
I say
“I ain’t chasin’ mercy
I’m just keepin’ you away”
If tomorrow ever finds me
With this poison in my eyes
Tell it I was halfway gone
Just helpin’ it decide
[Chorus]
I’m at the bottom of the bottle
Still on top of my regret
Drownin’ every memory
But they ain’t drowned yet
If I keep on pourin’
Maybe I’ll run out of sky
I’m gonna drink you off my conscience
Yeah
I’ll drink you off my conscience
’Til I forget or die

rock, Bleak country-rock ballad with male vocals, swampy tremolo guitars, slow half-time drums, and a heavy, overdriven bass. Verses stay hushed and close-mic’d, kick and floor tom dragging like old chains; choruses swell with distorted rhythm guitars, reverb-soaked slide leads, and stacked, ragged harmonies. Bridge pulls everything back to a single guitar and voice before the full band slams in for a final, desperate chorus and ring-out., country rock