You told me you were leaving because I wouldn't stop drinking.
So I stopped from the fear of losing you forever.
I gathered up the courage and went by your place to tell you
that I broke my bad habit.
Walking up those old, wooden stairs were we used to sit and talk for hours I
peered through the window
and saw your lips pressing against someone new.
The drive back home was lonely and the only thing I pressed to my lips
was the flask from the glove compartment I promised you wasn't mine.
I guess it's time to quit my bad habit.
You.