Kinghorse:Going Home

GOING HOME

The air -- it screams -- it calls out to you. The ground -- the stones -- your past calls to you. You chose this place for all your praise and blame. It takes you back to a time when you were sane. The eyes -- the voice -- the things that are long past. You knew when you were small that your heart would never last. So you were shown the way, you were shown the door. The streets of your past are not yours anymore. You're home again -- the streets, your only friend So you were born to turn your back on fellow men? You're home again -- you will learn to hate again You will leave this place -- where will you go to then? You're chasing ghosts, you clutch the hands of time Your friends and you had fought to keep your souls alive Now you go home to see new hands point towards the door The streets of your past are not yours anymore. (I have returned to take what's mine. I will erase that painful time. No one alive will know my face. What occurred here will pass in time untraced.) I can never go home.