So this will be the last time,
It's written on your face,
And it's been coming for so long,
How could you once think I,
Would be happy with life?
And the words to these songs,
Are written right,
I wish they were wrong.
Because I'm sick of being tired,
I'm sick of being free,
And I pity the ones who walk the path I chose.
It's out of control,
Your ego's running whild,
And I cannot be a part of anything even this noble,
I don't believe life ain't what it seems,
I'm still doing things now that I thought cool at seventeen.
And the words to these songs,
Are written right,
I wish they were wrong.
Because I'm sick of being tired,
I'm sick of being free,
This load gets lighter every day I'm gone.
Because I'm sick of being tired,
I'm sick of being free,
And I pity the ones who walk the path I chose.
And I've stumbled and I've followed,
But just one thing I've learned,
The only way to fix a fucked up life is at home,
Right back home.