Something Like Home
NDO, Treis
Writing lines in the flesh until the words
Meet the ivory
Cold tongue returns to press against my neck
– oh, the irony
Callous hands along my skin again;
Familiar associate of sin
Breaking all my rules to let you come back in:
Call it closure as wrists begin to open
It's just Something like Home
Or something close to it
Lying in bed
Next to a serpent
It's just Something like Home
Or something close to it
Lying in bed
Next to a serpent
So we twist around each other in the black
Like “baby don’t come back”
Romanticize every lie until the meaning dies
Then repeat our cyclical goodbyes
It's just Something like Home
Or something close to it
Lying in bed
Next to a serpent