H O M E

   I'm riding down a road of hard work
and broken hearts, I've been broken before,
It's easy to get broken again.

I know, by far, how dangerous a distanced
road can be, I've walked on it in the past and
always been on the losing end.

But I cannot help to accept, this feeling
that drives me back. Back to where
I was alone but never as lonesome...

... a place I called home.

   The road is the same, the city has
never changed, the people come and go
and leave little of those I used to know.

I fear a death alone, I fear that, in my
last goodbye, there wont be anyone there
to reply.

I've been so alone, I could just die on my own.

But I cant help to see, theres always a
brighter light. Even if it's too far away from
me, It's where I was alone, but never as lonesome...

...a place I called home...

...a place I used to call my own.