“And it's this place that I call my home where I'm all alone they say I've written you a song, I say they must be wrong My arms are these terrible extensions keeping you from hell, and I'm fighting to keep you from drowning in the absense of my words, I remember staying up all night, writing letters as I carefully pasted the post cards I'd send you, from every city I slept in I stopped writing that summer, I could no longer fill the pages and I'm sorry I portray myself like this, it's embarrassing to say the least, but I'm slowly getting better, I'm quite alright If home is where the heart is then you've got mine”
