what we called home was waiting
for you long before you came.
and, sister, on your way out,
can you repeat what i said?
have we grown up through this,
have we grown out from light?
do we change all we are to hide from mistakes?
like when your mother said,
"honey, i'm leaving.
decisions things take time,
decisions things linger on."
so i'll carve my way out
am i too late,
but not too late
to wonder what became of hope?
(this full circle
will always contrive our lives)
am i too late,
but not too late
to wonder what became of grace?
i don't owe you,
not one cent.
fuck your right;
it's all over now.
(now you're just sleeping on your own.
and where do we go from here, where do we stay?
in others' arms, what will we create?)
does time just stand still for us now?
do i change my direction?
do i wait?
