Clay Sun Union

Time, time to pour myself
Breathe, short in living hell
Sometimes I do things that don't make sense
Sometimes I say things that don't make sense

But I don't think that I'm going home
But I don't think that I'm going home

Sleep, on your bed of nails
Breath, hot air filling up your sails
Sometimes I think I don't know myself
And I feel like I don't own myself

But I don't think I'm going home
But I don't think that I'm going home

You, with all the answers why
Dreams, falling from the sky
I don't understand what is in my head
Or below my feet where I float on lead

But I don't think I'm going home
But I don't think that I'm going home