Gone

I don't plan anything I'm trying to come home.

Thoughts of you are always on my mind.

A runaway from problems my excuse when I am there.

You roll over once again I'm gone.

It's old it's plain to see this life of tragedy.

Save it for later that's what we always said.

What will that do for us

Tried to paint a picture of the times we once shared

You never seemed to be so concerned

The story goes like this you say I'm almost never there

Independent is what you've always want

An arm to hold on someone to sleep next to in the night

Rolling over once again I'm gone

Look through the backlog and index of thoughts

This time it won't get to me.