I'll stay sober when I come home this October, and I'll
break the windows and let the chill put us to sleep. But
if I were to stay for a while, I'd reprise the same
condescending style; I should go, I should go if I'm gone
already. Give me the chance and I agree, I let it take
over me, and we're both so tired of this pacifying. Give
me the week and I'll be leaving; I'll be waiting for
things to calm down. You just want me to say I'm afraid
to commit to anything. But I'm not ready to say that yet.
I'm unsteady, I guess I'm drunk already, but this could
be the call that finally hangs me outside to dry. I'm so
nervous, I guess I got drunk on purpose, but if I've done
nothing wrong, then why are we already screaming?
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