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