APC

the trains roll by my porch, down here where nothing can live, and i’ve been smoking too much because i am no exception. you knew that already, i think. if you want salvation, then you ought to go see a priest, because forgiveness from those that we hurt in this world never was guaranteed. i’m coming home, it’s late again, i’m high as i’ve ever been. you’re sitting up, you’re in our bed crying for a ghost again. no room could be as dark or as empty as ours is, because i’m at home but i’m not here, and i never am. i wonder how many friends roll past my house in the night? in boxcars they sleep with hearts stashed in their backpacks. they’ll make california all right. a promise from me is just a lie i ain’t told yet, so i’m ready to die but i’m not willing to watch you watch me die here in our bed. i’m lying down, i’ve been nodding out since i don’t know when. the lights are on, you’re standing up screaming at a ghost again. darling, i’m home; hell i ain’t left this house of ours in days. but i’m not here. i never am. so i just can’t stay. my darling, i’m never coming back from where i’m going. my darling, i’m never coming home. my darling, i’m never coming back from where i’m going. my darling, i’m never coming home. never coming home again.