What if I came clean from the human pile?
On my way out the door, shook too many hands
On the way home
On my way home
By this time next year - resigned to waiting
We might burn alive in this foreign place
Held up in your home
Snowed in just in case
I take off my coat and replace the cold with the comfort on the other end
Always patching in
Need to hear again
Waiting silent still for you
No matter where we go, we appear as red dots
Our neighbors aren't who we thought and they never go away on the other end