Woorden: Murder By Death. In Bocca Al Lupo. Shiola.

I steal a look between the blinds, i unwind
she sleeps in comfort in my arms
she is plain, but she is mine
our child is silent but awake
i run my hand through his hair
i teach him manners and how to
stick up for himself when things get bad
i tell him "son, never throw the first punch
and if you must fight, make it clean"
shiola, will all be forgiven?
shiola, am i strong enough to start again alone?
the taste of home is filling up my mouth
is it wrong to love a family of ghosts?
her door is open, the windows are all up
she says "come inside"
i live alone, more or less
i summon wife, child, and happiness
build them up from the dirt and clay
i have to believe that all will be forgiven
my heart is overflowing
the love and anger coiled into one
they take and take, but never get their fill
i try and try, but fail against my will
i wait and wait for that hand to sweep me up
and take me down the road home.