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The city I live in is an empty shell,
I remember why I left in the first place
Yet return reluctantly back, wish I had seen worst days
Than the days I'm stuck in hell, the hell in which I call home
Maybe then days wouldn't be so bad
Old traditions and reputations carry on,
But I'm no longer playing along
To the tune of the song that I used to sing
And all the things that were once my thing
An old, reserved way of going about
Religion clouds this city with doubt
A shroud of judgement filters the air
Because everything I do
Everyone seems to care
It's like this place is in a dome
Cut off from outside, viewed differently from far
Desire to be on the outside, viewing from afar
This place I call home, is one aching scar
That I would rather leave alone and not touch
For everytime I touch, it cuts. Deeper and deeper, I hate to be here
The nostalgia floods, everytime I hear...
The name and place, think of multiple dates, and times I hate, thoughts I thought I loved, kept locked away, but they always resurface, in my mind,
On constant replay.
I want to be somewhere else, somebody else, a new different skin, but I still want to be myself, depending on the place I'm in.
Just not here, not in this place, need a new home, crave a new face. So I'll return for now, to this wretched city, and the feelings I hate.
At least some of the people, make my party of pity easy to wait
Wait until I'm fully out from this place I call home
Give me some years
And it'll no longer be known
Then I can celebrate.
