On my way home, I hoped that every passing car out on the road was you Catching up to tell me something resembling the truth But you haven't even said you're sorry yet, so instead Would you tell me this:
Did you hesitate on your way through the door?
On your way home, did you make peace with everything that you'd done wrong Or you decide that it was my fault all along? Did you think of me when you left the jewelry I gave you there on purpose As if you needed a clever reason to return
Did you hesitate on your way through the door Or did it make you feel more alive or less responsible this time For what you left behind?
And will you think of me When all the guilt builds a home in all your good days?
Did you hesitate on your way through the door Or did it make you feel more alive or less responsible this time For what you left behind?
