Kiss the Bottle
Jawbreaker Lyrics


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It gets lonliest (sic) at night. Down at the liquor store. Beneath the neon sky. Our moonlight. Six a.m. the floor comes alive with lice. The pan's dried up so tight. With hardened beans. We're hungry. So I lean on you sometimes. Just to see you're still there. Your feet can't take the weight of one. Much less two. We hit concrete. How were we born into this mess? I know I painted you a prettier picture, baby. But we were run out on a rail. Fell from the wagon to the night train. I kissed the bottle. I should've been kissing you. You wake up to an empty night. With tears for two. Cigarettes they fill the gaps. In our empty days. In our broken teeth. We're jonesing. Say mister, can you spare a dime? Some change could make a change. Could buy some time. Some freedom. Or an ear to hear my story. It's all I've got. My fiction beats the hell out of my truth. A palm upturned burnt blue. Don't call it sunburn. You've been shaking on the job. Just one drink ahead of your past. There's a white light coming up. You draw the blinds hoping it'll pass.




Overall Meaning

The first two lines of Jawbreaker's "Kiss the Bottle" set a bleak and lonely scene. The singer is at the liquor store in the middle of the night under a neon sky. The moonlight provides little comfort as they realize they are alone. The next lines paint a picture of a place that is infested and run down. The floor is alive with lice and the pan is so dry that the beans have hardened. The singer is hungry and leans on their companion for support. The physical situation is bleak, but the underlying emotional theme is about the need for human connection.


The chorus of the song, "I kissed the bottle, I should've been kissing you," indicates that the singer is turning to alcohol instead of their partner for comfort. The second verse further elaborates on this theme. The partner wakes up to find themselves alone with tears for two. The days are empty and the singer is jonesing, or in withdrawal from their addiction. They ask for spare change, hoping to buy some time or freedom. The singer's story is all they have, and they rely on their own brand of fiction to comfort themselves. The song concludes with the image of the singer shaking on the job and hoping that the white light coming up will pass. It's a bleak portrayal of addiction and the importance of human connection.


Line by Line Meaning

It gets lonliest (sic) at night. Down at the liquor store. Beneath the neon sky. Our moonlight.
The singer feels the most alone at night when they are at the liquor store, surrounded by the neon lights and moonlight.


Six a.m. the floor comes alive with lice. The pan's dried up so tight. With hardened beans. We're hungry.
At six in the morning, the singer is surrounded by filth and desperation, with no food to be found despite being desperately hungry.


So I lean on you sometimes. Just to see you're still there. Your feet can't take the weight of one. Much less two. We hit concrete.
The singer relies on someone for emotional support, but they are both struggling and unable to fully stand on their own, leading to a difficult and painful situation.


How were we born into this mess?
The artist questions how they ended up in their current difficult circumstances.


I know I painted you a prettier picture, baby. But we were run out on a rail. Fell from the wagon to the night train. I kissed the bottle. I should've been kissing you.
The artist acknowledges that they may have misled their loved one about their situation and choices, but ultimately recognizes that they have turned to alcohol instead of seeking comfort in their partner.


You wake up to an empty night. With tears for two. Cigarettes they fill the gaps. In our empty days. In our broken teeth. We're jonesing.
The singer's loved one is left struggling alone, turning to cigarettes to fill the emptiness and cope with their own pain and addiction.


Say mister, can you spare a dime? Some change could make a change. Could buy some time. Some freedom. Or an ear to hear my story. It's all I've got. My fiction beats the hell out of my truth.
The singer begs for someone to show them even the smallest bit of kindness or empathy, offering their own made-up stories as a way to escape their harsh reality.


A palm upturned burnt blue. Don't call it sunburn.
The artist's hands have been burned and damaged in some way, perhaps from hard work or living on the streets, and they are sensitive about it being referred to as just a sunburn.


You've been shaking on the job. Just one drink ahead of your past. There's a white light coming up. You draw the blinds hoping it'll pass.
The artist is struggling to hold on, barely keeping it together while working, and is haunted by their own past and the possibility of getting caught or experiencing negative consequences. They hope to avoid detection or judgment by hiding away from the world.




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