Home is where the heart is So I guess she doesn't have one. Circling points on the map Doesn't get her places. Only empty drives And moving on and on.
Running places to hide from mistakes Accounts for small breaks in changing faces But doesn't change a thing like Cutting pages from a book of goodness And pretending the world is worth being reckless.
But drowning in far flung fears is easy It's treading stale air that isn't. Drawing on the same breath for years, A suffocation, imprisoned. Stripped of dreaming and stiffened with passing seasons. Home is where the heart is So I guess she doesn't have one.
She doesn't remember this place Or this name, or this face, Because it all blurs together Into something so forgettable. Onto another town She doesn't care to know And treating people As if they're something borrowed. To keep quiet, and do as they're told And erode time away for her.
Escape is an exit away, but Fleeting thoughts keep her chained to the highway, Riding until the road dries out. Home is where the heart is And I wonder if she'll find one.