| Alone for a while with myself
|
| I feel so at home in the shade
|
| Alone for the first time in my head
|
| I feel so at ease there instead
|
| Maybe I should leave my home
|
| Maybe I should slip away
|
| A home is a heartache, they tell me
|
| Come in‚ leave your shoes at the door
|
| The phone never rings‚ but
|
| The paint is a dried pool on the floor
|
| Maybe I could finish this
|
| Turn my back and walk away
|
| Maybe I could slip away
|
| If home is a fire you’ve left burning
|
| Where the frosty designs outline the pane/pain
|
| And the cold winter nights keep on churning
|
| Stealing memories of sunshine and of rain
|
| Maybe I could break this down
|
| Turn around and face the day
|
| Maybe I could slip away
|
| Alone for a while with myself
|
| I feel so at home in the shade
|
| Alone for the first time in my head
|
| I feel so at ease there instead
|
| Maybe I should leave my home
|
| Maybe I could slip away |