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So this will be the last time, |
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It's written on your face, |
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And it's been coming for so long, |
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How could you once think I, |
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Would be happy with life? |
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And the words to these songs, |
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Are written right, |
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I wish they were wrong. |
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Because I'm sick of being tired, |
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I'm sick of being free, |
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And I pity the ones who walk the path I chose. |
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It's out of control, |
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Your ego's running whild, |
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And I cannot be a part of anything even this noble, |
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I don't believe life ain't what it seems, |
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I'm still doing things now that I thought cool at seventeen. |
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And the words to these songs, |
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Are written right, |
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I wish they were wrong. |
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Because I'm sick of being tired, |
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I'm sick of being free, |
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This load gets lighter every day I'm gone. |
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Because I'm sick of being tired, |
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I'm sick of being free, |
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And I pity the ones who walk the path I chose. |
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And I've stumbled and I've followed, |
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But just one thing I've learned, |
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The only way to fix a fucked up life is at home, |
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Right back home. |
