Coming Home

Oh, sweet sorrow

Let's write the book tomorrow

For I caught a glimpse

Been obsessed with it ever since

My eyes no longer weak amongst the clarity

That you pronounce in me

Won, you have won

My illumination has begun

I am happily indifferent to the ones

Who have consistently been wrong

And all that once confined us

Like minutiae at its finest now is gone

Oh, sweet sorrow

Let's write the book tomorrow

My eyes no longer weak amongst the clarity

That you pronounce in me

I am happily indifferent to the ones

Who have consistently been wrong

And all that once confined us

Like minutiae at its finest now is gone

And all that that lies before me like the asphalt

Lures me forward towards home, home, coming home