Type and type
Until my finger tips bleed
And write and write
Until the blisters sting.

Home isn't a place
Where to lay your head down,
Because places have  a tendency
To much like bridges,
Burn to the ground.

And beat your head against the wall,
Over and over
Because of that nagging feeling
In the back of your head
"Not good enough"
Eats away at the parts of you
You considered dead.

But it's getting later,
And you're not getting younger.
But who the hell cares,
I, being the general "you" I mentioned earlier, would wait an eternity to be by your side.

I'm flying away from my troubles.
From the pain,
From the wounds of my past.
And though I'm by your side,
There are plenty of scars along my skin.

And I hope you don't mind,
But I'm a little strange away from home.

But home isn't a place,
It's where my heart is,
And my heart happens to beat
Alongside yours.

No, I'm afraid home isn't a place,
Rather,
It's a heartbeat.