Whats the good in the woebegone notion of hope
Somewhere on a dim lit pedestal
Etched into the stone
A lonesome poem about a forgotten home
Maybe one day you'll atone for sins
That you so easily swept under the rug
Visions of an ugly mug, appear and vanish
Passion soon dissolves, like sea foam
Leaving a haunting feeling, a tragic poem
Yet when I close my eyes I just want home
Take me home, Take me home
I am alone.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
Whats the good in the woebegone notion of hope
Somewhere on a dim lit pedestal
Etched into the stone
A lonesome poem about a forgotten home
Maybe one day you'll atone for sins
That you so easily swept under the rug
Visions of an ugly mug, appear and vanish
Passion soon dissolves, like sea foam
Leaving a haunting feeling, a tragic poem
Yet when I close my eyes I just want home
Take me home, Take me home
I am alone.
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