Buy a pack of cigarettes,
and taste the smoke within your soul.
I thought I had a dominance,
over your weary full.
A twist and turn,
I shot the fray,
A Babelism turned to stone.
With you here I screamed, “get out!”
It’s you that’s always home.
So the demon scratches the surface,
and the bugs crawl in your skin.
This feeling is the grace of god,
and it feels trapped within.
Did I cross the line,
when you crossed my mind.
Who is the bitter foe?
I’ll take my truck to out of town,
bury what I hate most.
I look in the rear view,
with you in the clear.
Now it’s something that I loathe.
I want to go home to my family.
I want to see my home.
“Patience is a virtue.”
Says my wife with the scars.
“It’s something that will take with time,
not with your hearts desire.”
It’s wrong to let me feel this way,
it’s for the better that I hear.
Someday I’ll find another one,
that day is what I fear.
