This is all I can think of as I lay in the bed I grew up in.
Home to visit the few friends I kept.
But how can I call this home?
I gave up this place, I've spoken out on my hate.
And already its starting to get late, but I can't close my eyes.
Because if I fall asleep those mountains might move and block my escape.
And my family keeps telling me that this town is my fate.
But I believe I can be more. I have to be.
Because right now laying in this bed I grew up in.
I just feel like a puzzle piece **that doesn't fit.