This is honesty
I'm afraid of who I might really be
You're a mystery
I'm a blind man walking this balance beam
Am I getting through
Talking to walls here in the afternoon
Am I getting through
Am I just a stranger who rented a room
Who rented a room
Am I just a stranger who rented a room
Yours is the earth, yours is the grain
The voice in the wind, the stroke on the page
I'm paralyzed in this wretched old home
Making up words that I reckon you wrote
Yours is the earth, yours is the grain
The voice in the wind, the stroke on the page
I'm paralyzed in this wretched old home
Making up words that I reckon you wrote
Ian Illig - Old Home Lyrics
Ian Illig - Old Home Lyrics
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This is honesty
I'm afraid of who I might really be
You're a mystery
I'm a blind man walking this balance beam
Am I getting through
Talking to walls here in the afternoon
Am I getting through
Am I just a stranger who rented a room
Who rented a room
Am I just a stranger who rented a room
Yours is the earth, yours is the grain
The voice in the wind, the stroke on the page
I'm paralyzed in this wretched old home
Making up words that I reckon you wrote
Yours is the earth, yours is the grain
The voice in the wind, the stroke on the page
I'm paralyzed in this wretched old home
Making up words that I reckon you wrote
I'm afraid of who I might really be
You're a mystery
I'm a blind man walking this balance beam
Am I getting through
Talking to walls here in the afternoon
Am I getting through
Am I just a stranger who rented a room
Who rented a room
Am I just a stranger who rented a room
Yours is the earth, yours is the grain
The voice in the wind, the stroke on the page
I'm paralyzed in this wretched old home
Making up words that I reckon you wrote
Yours is the earth, yours is the grain
The voice in the wind, the stroke on the page
I'm paralyzed in this wretched old home
Making up words that I reckon you wrote
Writer: Ian Illig
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid