This Year

I broke free on a Saturday morning I put the pedal to the floor Headed north on Mills Avenue And listened to the engine roar My broken house behind me and good things ahead A girl named Cathy wants a little of my time Six cylinders underneath the hood crashing and kicking Ah, listen to the engine whine I am going to make it through this year If it kills me I am going to make it through this year If it kills me I played video games in a drunken haze I was seventeen years young Hurt my knuckles punching the machines The taste of scotch rich on my tongue And then Cathy showed up and we hung out Trading swigs from a bottle, all bitter and clean Locking eyes, holding hands Twin high maintenance machines I am going to make it through this year If it kills me I am going to make it through this year If it kills me I drove home in the California dusk I could feel the alcohol inside of me hum Pictured the look on my stepfather's face Ready for the bad things to come I down-shifted as I pulled into the driveway The motor screaming out, stuck in second gear The scene ends badly, as you might imagine In a cavalcade of anger and fear There will be feasting and dancing in Jerusalem next year I am going to make it through this year If it kills me I am going to make it through this year If it kills me