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Bottom of the Glass
iTCH
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
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Translation
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Why do I keep looking over these old photographs?
Like I'm staring through roses redder than my overdraft
Vaseline smeared over the pain of the past
The shutter clicks on a false memory that's all lasts
It gets me thinking, how did I end up here?
Alone at 3AM serenading a bottle of beer
Falling deeper and deep into the darkness of nights
Clutching a picture of orchestrated better times
If only I could be more than a part of my sum
Wishing on yesterday, but yesterday never comes
At least not the one I want haunting me
That's just my smug and gloating imagination taunting me
If we had to try a hundred times, it was never meant to be
No matter what I read in old letters sent to me
You don't get low self-esteem in a snapshot to the past
So why do I torture myself with old photographs?
To the bottom, to the bottom
To the bottom of a glass
To the bottom, to the bottom
To the bottom of a glass
It magnifies the photographs
It blurs my vision, but the
Sobering thoughts, they started me drinking
ย
When I find myself alone
My rationale sets with the sun, my mind's overcast
Analyzing what I've become
Rosรฉ tinted wine glass, thick cigarette smoke
Hiking the molehill mountains and the feeling that provokes
My emotions running high after too many double rips
A fully clothed single man passed out in a double pit
Holding onto a photograph of a second quick as lightning
'Cause we never took any of all the time that we spent fighting
All the time we spent going round and round in circles
Back and forth for so long we became nocturnal
There's no picture of us rolling away from each other in bed
The album didn't show we were both diagnosed depressed
There's no snapshots of last chances, fresh starts
That ended with us having the same cynical hearts
Just pages of fake smiles that became our opponents
I torture myself with made-up moments
To the bottom, to the bottom
To the bottom of a glass
To the bottom, to the bottom
To the bottom of a glass
It magnifies the photographs
It blurs my vision, but the
Sobering thoughts, they started me drinking
If I could turn back the hands of time
If I had the power to do that in these two hands of mine
Well I'd take the opportunity in a second
And go back with a camera tied around my neck
And snap every morbid minute till I got it all documented
Till every mundane moment is in my mind cemented
Then I'll never have to question all these "what ifs" and "maybes"
Reality is I have to become an escapee
'Cause these trains of thought drive me crazy
They drive me crazy
To the bottom, to the bottom
To the bottom of a glass
To the bottom, to the bottom
To the bottom of a glass
It magnifies the photographs
It blurs my vision, but the
Sobering thoughts, they started me drinking
To the bottom, to the bottom
To the bottom of a glass
To the bottom, to the bottom
To the bottom of a glass
It magnifies the photographs
It blurs my vision, but the
Sobering thoughts, they started me drinking
ย