Hometown

April 20, 2018

I fell asleep to train whistles catching on crickets and wet tracks, I remember your brown eyes

They reached out to me and said, "I want you to live a life that has left from here"

From my hometown, I was grown and it is where I roamed

From deserts to wet forests, to far lands of community to humid swamps in the middle of it all

I guess I've been everywhere with you, but this isn't the place we can keep growing in

Because everything I see is gone, everything just feels so wrong now

I am told by some, "Just try to be free and be somebody", but how can I let go

When the rope is burned into my hand, when the snag is into so deep

How can I move on, when I've already left the life that was laid down

Dreaming all these things now can you try to hold on to me

Now that you're just a ghost, you're nothing more than just a memory that's been burned down too

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