Pack up my personality,
make sure the tape really sticks.
This home has been my totality,
every board and all the bricks.
Throw away my secrets,
we'll need a bag just for those,
and I hope I won't have to repeat this,
but I don't want those stains on my clothes.
The woman makes the threads anyways, I suppose.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
it gave me warmth and so much more,
when I was stranded it was my shore,
home is where the heart is, so says the lore.

Put away my memories,
in a box that's labeled "fragile,"
'cause even though they'll lift with ease,
I'd prefer for them all not to pile.
Throw away the forgotten fights,
the ones that always left the scars.
Make sure to only bring the nights,
with the brightest moon and stars,
but they won't fit into such small cars.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
where I sat dazed on the floor,
feeling high enough to soar,
home is where the heart is, but I'm lacking that core.

Store away my personality,
the one that fits me like a glove,
all the things that compile of me,
and illustrate all the things I love.
Throw away the parts of me that are broken,
I don't think I'll ever long for them,
but wait, maybe I've just misspoken,
cause that's the root of my twisted stem,
even a damaged jewel is still a gem.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
and there won't be twenty-four more.
It'll be the last time that I close that door,
I have no idea what's now in store,
home is where the heart is, but my chest is bruised and sore.

So say goodbye to Tower,
a street where once I walked each path,
where I knew each tree and flower,
and love's bliss and heartbreak's wrath.
Also say farewell to family,
well essentially it's only the dwelling,
but I don't know what life has planned for me,
as with the future there is no telling.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
there won't be twenty-four more.
It'll be the last time that I close that door,
I'll open a window to even the score,
home is where the heart is, but the beats feel like a chore.

My love is more pure than a diamond,
even with a heart of dark, black coal.
Lately I've been expanding my mind and,
getting high on draining my soul.
I skip notes like a broken record,
and thus conversation is never relayed.
I make choices with how it will affect her,
we both know that's how the game is played.

But I know that I have the potential to destroy a life,
and that's why I decorate in caution tape.
Yes I know it reflects shining misery and strife,
but I've been strapped in so long; I can't escape.

I've got high hopes and low odds,
hearing only demons who act as gods.
I've got low morale but skin of steel,
even when I watch it bleed and peel.

My love is more pure than the deepest of seas,
even with affection that's coarse like sand.
Lately I've been biting and silencing my pleas,
and digging my nails straight into my hand.
I sink ships like a waiting ice field,
stopping it dead right in it's path,
and not even the greatest mirror shield,
could ever withstand my full wrath.

'Cause I know that I have the ability to stick around,
so I try to make sure that I am never really there.
My soul fears the day when it is chained and bound,
but the opportunities seem so very rare.

I've got high hopes and low odds,
rambling this nonsense with the nods.
I've got low morale but skin of steel,
it deflects the good and bad that I should feel.

When Winter hits I'll be wishing I was still young,
but when Summer's around I'm still biting my tongue.
We both know that the storms have always been mine,
I never claimed to be blue skies and sunshine.

Atleast the nights are almost always cold,
but they keep me warm with the beauty of the stars.
Shining wishes for all, or so I'm told,
accessories for both Jupiter and Mars.

The snow covers all with blinding white,
but in the Summer the grass could always be more green.
We both know the storms have always been mine by rite,
'cause the blue skies were never truly clean.

You know every four season,
time has never moved so fast.
They've all blended for no reason,
never disappearing but they never last.
The world turns, the moon shines,
The sun burns, Nature's designs.

When Winter hits I'll be wishing I was still young,
but when Summer's around it still seems Spring never sprung.
We both know the storms we're always made for me,
I have always been the rain and you the sea.

You know every four season,
time has never moved so fast,
freezing to death when I let the breeze in,
and the outcome never matches the forecast.
The world turns, the moon shines,
and everyone yearns, everyday for some signs.

There's some lessons to learn, but I can only teach so much,
resentment will cause you to burn, so to anger please never clutch.
It will take up room in your brain, and make your eyes seem hollow,
it'll cause your heart to drain and soon your soul will follow.

Here is a tired line, a real used up remark,
but the stars can only shine when the sky is truly dark.
You can only feel good after you've felt so incredibly low,
you'd climb out if you could, your strength isn't just for show.

Do not seek out only wealth,
it will not buy you a life to live,
focus more so on your health,
and the cures Mother Nature can give.
Every object will become broken and will only create waste,
the real gifts are the ones spoken, with words that are truth based.

Always show love to your mother,
'cause you'll miss her badly when she's gone,
and look to a stranger like a brother,
and appreciate the dusk as if it were dawn.

There's some lessons to learn,
but there's just too many to say,
and some with mistakes you'll earn,
and some you'll realize another day.
Always find ways to expand your mind,
never stop seeking the truth,
and look at the world as if colourblind,
and please don't waste your precious youth.

Sleep; I've been waiting for you every night,
and I'm in too deep, so deep I can barely see the light.
I've been counting sheep, but there's always one more in my sight,
they want to leap, but their small legs don't have the might.

This isn't good for me, no, it's not good for anyone,
A human was meant to see, the warmth and light of the sun.
I've wasted Summer away, we're almost in November,
I'm losing more life every day, I just want to sleep forever.

So sing me some lies and lullabies,
something sweet that won't make me cry,
some sighs for the starry skies,
for just you and I.
Sing me some lies and lullabies,
something sweet to make me try,
some sighs for my tired eyes,
it's just you and I.

I don't wish to live this way, no, no one should be a vampire,
but I do it for the pay, because the rent is getting higher.
When's the last time I felt sane? I don't even really remember,
each breath causes pain, I just want to sleep forever.

Sleep; I've been waiting for you every night,
and I wish to keep, what remains of my brain that's right.
I've been counting sheep, but there's always one more in my sight,
the number's steep, and the fence is closing in tight.

This isn't good for me, no, this isn't good for anyone,
people were meant to be, another animal to hunt and run.
I've wasted my life away, next will come December,
I'm sure I'll feel the same in May, I just want to sleep forever.

Neon lights; they're taking away my rights,
advertising so bright, only capitalism in sight.
Slaving away, to make ends meet each day,
creditors barely at bay, with the same thing they always say:

"You're indebted to us,
we manipulated your trust,
and now we own you; head, feet and bust,
but it's your life and wallet that we lust."

Constant bills, money has lost all of it's thrills,
no heat; you freeze and chill, then starving; being poor kills.
Yet still it seems so, they think you have the money to blow,
on the pointless things for show,
or on knowledge you will never know.

So tell me when will it stop?
When will the prices drop?
The well's dry and farms lack the crop,
the economy is doomed to flop.
From the advertisers, the supersizers,
the colonizers, the demonetizers.

Going to pray, that I survive another day,
to light a candle to show the way, but for the light I have to pay.
Now it seems to me, that Heaven is meant for the wealthy,
and our lives; a shopping spree, in this Hell we get for free.

So tell me how long will it be,
until Jesus' sandals are Nike,
and his **** cloth is Gucci,
and they trademark the word "Holy."

So tell me how long will it be,
until Jesus' sandals are Nike,
and his **** cloth is Gucci,
and praying will cost a service fee.