Tuesday, July 25, 2017

never coming home

here I rest alone,
just looking outside my window
there's so much undone
and I feel like a creep, a weirdo

here I hear the whisper
from the shadow that crawls beneath
and it feels it's getting crisper
'cause the story doesn't turn to myth

from here to the shore
or wherever I may roam,
I hear the closing door
for I'm never coming home

today I found your love,
it's made from pebbles and stone
the darkest I can think of
and you will die alone

tomorrow I lay dead
from the sins of my angered heart,
the best I've ever had
was our love grown apart

from here to the shore
or wherever I may roam,
I hear the closing door
for I'm never coming home