You remind me of home: the paint cracks when the water leaks from the rusty pipes that are just beneath my feet You remind me of home: the heater's warm but fills the room with a potpourri of dust and gas fumes
You remind me of home: a broken bed with dirty sheets that creaks when I am shifting in my sleep You remind me of home: in a suburban town with nothing to do, patiently waiting for something to happen But the foundation is crumbling and becoming one with the ground while you lay there in slumber... You're wasting your lie
You remind me of home: sitting on a thrift store couch, I'm trying to get this all down
