There’s a white fence now in the run-down yard of my first house, and it all changed
It’s getting harder and harder to say
Do you feel at home whenever you draw the
Windows open to let the light in? Are your siblings still outside fighting?

I want to be totally reckless with you in suburban streets
Breaking into houses where we used to live, and sleeping under stranger’s sheets
Your friends say that they know what’s best but I don’t think that’s true
We both know that in a year or so everything will feel like new

To change like every road that’s been repaved and painted
So what’s old seems more inviting. But a crash is still exciting
I want to be totally reckless, own all of our regrets
I’ll shoot at the cops while you hop the fence. I don’t care if they ever forget

Your friends say that they know what’s best but I don’t think that’s true
We both know that in a year or so everything will feel like new
So the next time you pass through, could you remember how we
Framed ourselves when we were young, next to where our guilt was hung

And nailed to the wall, depicting everything we’re running from
So if home is where the heartache is I hope that the next time you pass through, it won’t feel that way for you
If we change the locks, there’s a chance that we could

Block out things we did before, on the other side of the door
If home is where the heartache is I hope it’s not for you