I have gotten use to being gone. Silhouettes and unmade beds. More and more when I am alone I think of you. I am getting tired of going nowhere, but it is all I ever do. I could turn this thing around. Guess I do not want to. I turn the key, open up the door, sit my suitcase down on the hardwood floor, and I call your name. I climb the stairs, and then I realize you are not there. I get homesick. I get homesick. I get homesick for anywhere but home. I think I use to have the answers, but now I just do not know. Well the question still hangs on why did I let you go? I turn the key, open up the door, sit my suitcase down on the hardwood floor, and I call your name. I climb the stairs, and then I realize you are not there. I get homesick. I get homesick. I get homesick for anywhere but home. I keep wishing I would lose my mind time and time again. There is a picture running through my head of you and me back then. I get homesick. I get homesick. I get homesick for anywhere but home.
Posted on: Fri, 06 Sep 2013 17:10:52 +0000
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