Bread Crumbs And White Stones

So I'll keep searching,

for a place called home.

I'll rip my roots from this earth,

into the unkonwn.

Is it for the dreams I chased or the ones I caught,

this mystery this misery is killing me.

So now I'll leave behind a murder scene,

my life isn't real,

it's just a silhouette and when the sun goes down,

I won't exist.

I will be forfotten,

bread crums and white stones can't follow me.

Overwhelming,

constantly i'm tearing at the seams,

the threads that hold me together,

they envelop me.

I am a shaking man.

As my body breaks against the wind,

I begin slowly to unravel.

Overwhleming,

I'm tearing at the seams,

the threads that hold me together they envelop me.

And with fervor I am everywhere I thought I never would be.

I will never come home,

I am a ghost inside your empty house.

I don't exist.

I will not come home,

I'll never come home.