As the foliage dies on the trees
The cycles of nature, It's time.
The smoke of the cigarette, ember on the filter.
Slightly burnt, then went out.
Lines on the sky - they're higher and ligher
Hearing the rattling of the tram tracks
In my bottle there's a little left at the bottom
In my bottle...
In my bottle there's a little left at the bottom
I finish it all - and go to you.
In my bottle there's a little left at the bottom
I finish it all - and go to you.