There’s nothing,
that I can say,
to make you not go.
To make you come back,
To make this house a home.
But I’ll live,
I’ll break my back,
I’ll live by the tracks,
I’ll gain all I lack.
To make myself a man.
There’s so many,
friends and family,
who say I won’t,
amount to nothing.
But if I let go of my ego,
I can finally breathe.
They all still think I’m wrong,
because I belong to the Otherside.
But I’ll take back,
all my morals.
So I’ll be fine and clean.
Is it so hard to see me?
I was your pariah.
Now I live much like,
the mortals,
that live in the streets.
I know it’s hard,
to understand,
my thinking.
Waiting for,
the Demagogues,
to take me away.
But there’s so much,
understanding,
now I can see.
I see you across the street,
not believing what you see.
The path I have chose,
among the righteous and the pius.
I see you not believing in me.
Not thinking I could see,
the path I can take,
to turn this house into a home.
Now I can’t believe I lived,
wished to be where you stood,
wanted to make your house a home.
You’re just like the Demagogues,
taking away from richeous,
corrupting the minds of men.
To think,
I wished to make your house a home.
