Every single time
I see you in the street as you walk by,
you're shuffling your feet
as if to say you'd rather die,
than live so far from home.
I wonder is that why you're so alone,
and if you found a place to call your own,
would you be fine?
And you tell me that something
good is bound to happen soon,
and meanwhile you'll just
wait inside your room.
Do you find it odd
that you are not as
strong as you once thought?
And even if you run you
might get caught,
so you won't go,
and you'll be the last to know.
And even if you run you
might get caught,
so you won't go,
and you'll be the last to know.