He sees her face
|
The highway signs
|
The traffic lights
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And she's turning red
|
At a motel
|
On a double bed
|
He swears he feels her lying there
|
|
And she whispers in his ear
|
"You can't run away forever"
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But sometimes
|
That feels like coming home to me anymore
|
It feels like coming home to me
|
But the further off I get
|
|
The more I get upset
|
I could never make it home
|
|
She sees his face
|
In the sweat-stained sheets
|
The dirty cups
|
They keep on piling up
|
In the backyard
|
So overgrown
|
In the dandelions
|
They peek through the cracks in the patio
|
She swears she hears the phone
|
But she only gets a dial-tone
|
So she imagines what'd she say:
|
|
"If you feel like coming home to me sometime
|
Yeah, if you feel like coming home to me
|
I'll be waiting at the door
|
There is nothing to be sorry for
|
So why can't you come home?
|
Don't you feel like coming home to me anymore?
|
You don't feel like coming home to me?"
|
|
That's the game you choose
|
But you don't have to play the loser
|
|
-----------------
|
You Don't Feel Like Home To Me
|
| The Good Life |
