Deprived of life,
When love was lost.
The pages seemed to throw us off.
Hold your breath and count to three,
As I take the last swig of you and me.
Pulled apart by invisible bounds,
They may as well be seen.
To know that love has no bounds,
Seems rather contrived.
Hold your breath and count to three,
As I take the last swig of you and me.
The bottle's done,
This has become less than fun.