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I'm trying to find my way home and I have ran out of roads to go on
I tried the quickest way and my feet suffered thorns and the suffocating fog led me astray
I tried the longest way but it took too much —all the time I had— and left me with nothing but sagging bones in cruel theft
I tried the cleverest way and all I got were enemies watching my every step in case I fail
I tried the dumbest way only to get criticized for being too transparent with what I'm thinking
I tried the brightest way but all it did was blind me to the truth that perhaps I really have no home to go back to Perhaps, it has been ransacked by thieves and burned to the ground all those years ago It's my fear and perhaps it has come true —I have no home to go back to
So maybe that's why I've tried all the roads I could go on and until now I'm still trying to convince the road to lead me back to where I belong, to tell me that for forever, I am home
