The sordid memories were chasing me
Along the swollen latitudes of a rotten globe
Its time to hang them up
Like sweaty clothes out the window
Once i used to care about coming home
The feeling drowned out easy by the engine drone
Along the bloated longitude of a rotten globe
I always came back
With some long story to tell
Tinged with the helplessness
Of unrelatable detail
But like the monotony of a metronome
I always come home