On my eighteenth birthday,
I almost did a horrible thing
I was on the brink of being
Someone I am not

As we sat by the bonfire
I looked up while he was talking
And I realized I don't love him
I don't love him at all
I just like the way he talks
I like the clothes he wears
And the way he smells

On my eighteenth birthday,
I almost agreed to get wasted
I almost up and wasted
All the good I ever done

As we sat in the chair
He put his arm around me
And I felt something, but not enough
Not enough at all
I wonder if the beer is warm
Like you are
I wonder if you are any deeper
than the bottle in your hand

On my eighteenth birthday,
I almost let myself go free
And Maybe I should have ceded
To cease this civil war in me
But maybe, oh maybe
I did the right thing

As I ride in your passenger seat,
I look around at who's behind me
Oh God, they're so dear to me
But I can't be like them
I must keep myself
As long as I can