He takes his hat from off the peg
and places it upon his head
followed by his scalf and overcoat
the wooden floor shines with the moon
he’s leavin’ now and not too soon
he’s going home that’s where it hurts the most
he makes his way to his one bed shack
with two steps forward, one step back
and greets an old acquaintance on the floor
he looks toward his empty place
and wipes the tears from off his face
there’s no one there to greet him any more
Unwelcome home, that’s what he says to himself
as he pushes back the mail beneath the door
doesn’t want to open letters any more
As he falls into his unmade bed
with conversations in his head
he tries to make some sense of every sound
but silence holds him like a claw
he just cant take this any more
tomorrow this is where he’ll still be found
Unwelcome home, that’s what he says to himself
as he lies there fully clothed and in his shoes
he’s tired of life, so there’s nothing left to lose
he’s tired of life, so there’s nothing left to lose
www.jasonmarkyates.com
