home.

we scratch at scabs, careful not to bleed to long

but always open, always bare

and another place, another bandage, someone else to stitch me up

but i run to you to bleed it out

home: to that sinking feeling and familiar roads

take the bandage off, let things heal

wear the scar, a mark of pride

i cut the strings that play sad songs

and i'd strangle you with them if i could

but my hands they tremble so

home: to that sinking feeling and familiar roads

you speak in platitudes, i hear fear

you say it's for the best, i loved the worst in you

you say you'll go at last, i won't say no

home: to that sinking feeling and familiar roads

i cut the strings that play sad songs

and I'd strangle you with them if i could

but my hands they tremble so

but my hands they tremble so