Upstairs around where I wrote a song,
About where I loved laying.
Grey bathwater filled with my hair,
Filled with my body.
This is just some lost race carved in upright knees,
Where soft smiles lie alone.
Shackled to rope, watch me go as the birds dart.
Why can't we just stop?
Going home.
About where I loved laying.
Grey bathwater filled with my hair,
Filled with my body.
This is just some lost race carved in upright knees,
Where soft smiles lie alone.
Shackled to rope, watch me go as the birds dart.
Why can't we just stop?
Going home.