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You say it's gone |
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Though it never is |
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and there is always another. |
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And you'll bore of this |
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you will bore yourself |
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and you don't need a reason. |
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And you're never home |
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so you're never lost |
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and you've never wanted less. |
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Well, this has nothing to do with loss. |
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You say you're sure |
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though you never are |
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there are always reminders |
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that there is a start |
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and there is an end |
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and that the two bare no relation |
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to the time you get |
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to secure some some rest |
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and to feel that you belong. |
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And the sun, it may set, but it will rise again |
