Oh, I wanna be gone, I wanna be gone, I wanna be gone.
I can't do it, I can't do this anymore.
I can't tell which of us is crazy anymore. I don't think it's me, but I don't KNOW!!!!!!

OK, history lesson. Saturday afternoon, he bought a bottle of vodka, poured a cocktail, but then didn't drink it. I found it, tho, and Jonathan and then Jon and I had a long talk about it.

I come home today and he's really scared and sad. I take a drink of his Pepsi and I SWEAR I taste bourbon. I wanna know where it is, and Jonathan starts calling me paranoid and accusing me of not trusting them. He's turning this all around on me like I'm the one doing something wrong.
I can't find a bottle. I SWEAR I'm not wrong!!! But i can't prove it. Yeah, I'm paranoid, but just 'cause I'm paranoid doesn't mean there ain't something going on.

I just wanna go home. Wanna go home. But this IS home and I wanna just die. I know I can't, but it sure feels that way.