Why the Rye

Screaming in a jar, wondering who you are, Waiting for the glass to crack, You left me with these scars, you left me in the stars, Trying to find my way back. I smoke and I drink, so I don't have to think, About why the moon's in love with the sun, I drown and I sink, my minds on the brink, My shadow's holding a loaded gun. You pry and you lie, you cry and deny, A rose wrapped up in all your thorns, Raise my drink to the sky, as I down all this rye, And I chase the pain with all my scorn.