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?