But it's the genie at the bottom who I'm sucking at.
He owes me one last wish.
SO HERES A present to let you know I still exist.
I hope the next boy that you kiss has something terribly contagious on his lips.
But I got a plan. Drink for forty days and forty nights.
A sip for every second-hand tick.
And for every time you fed me the line,
“you mean so much to me...”. I'm without you.