We’ll leave at dusk with only that which we can carry Whatever’s left gets burned or buried For if by chance we return
We’ll leave a note To whom it may concern: Fuck you and your front lawn I’d rather die with my hands tied than holding a gun
There’s no place like home for collecting burdens And conjuring ghosts that don’t know they’re dead
Soon there’s going to be a fight And we’ll all have to choose sides Like kids on the playground But everyone’s hungry
There’s no place like home for collecting burdens And conjuring ghosts that don’t know they’re dead
He insists that he’s just sick and I don’t have the heart To tell him any different It’s the way it’s been and the way it will be until we leave We don’t need a mirror We don’t need those pictures on the wall We don’t need to see ourselves as we are now To remember where we came from
We’ll leave at dusk with only that which we can carry I’ll get the dog, you get the baby And pray that there’s a god to light our way