Hometown calling, I thought I had burned these roots.
Something drove me back, childhood memories, the sinners fruit.
I got reacquainted with the city and its classic empty streets.
The rain was beating down like it had something to prove. But not to me, not tonight.
I stood there for hours, putting familiar stories to unfamiliar faces.
At every moment, in every pair of eyes, a life lived, a life ahead.
We all have our own tragedies. And I had to face mine.
I was walking back home, got my head faced down. And I know, some doors are better left shut.
And when I look back at that moment, as I held her and saw her soul trying to outrun the world. I knew it would end soon. She had nothing left.
Someone died that day and I'm not sure who.
But in the end, we march on. We just have to.
Between images of broken dreams and lonely nights we have to find our own sanctuary.
We have to shine amidst the dead reflections.
