This Year

I broke free on a Saturday morning
I put the pedal to the floor
I 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
Oh, listen to that engine whine

I am gonna make it through this year
If it kills me
I am gonna make it through this year
If it kills me

I played video games in a drunken haze
I was seventeen years young
With 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 the bottle, all bitter and clean
Locking eyes, holding hands
Twin high-maintenance machines

I am gonna make it through this year
If it kills me
I am gonna make it through this year
If it kills me

I drove home in the California dusk
I could feel the alcohol and sodomy hum
I pictured the look on my stepfather's face
I was ready for the bad things to come
I downshifted as I pulled into the driveway
The motor screaming out, stuck in second gear
This scene ends badly as you might imagine
In a cavalcade of anger and fear
And there will be feasting and dancing
In Jerusalem next year

And I am gonna make it through this year
If it kills me
I am gonna make it through this year
If it kills me
If it kills me