Too many wars ended with nothing still no peace
Too many vicious words swolled escapes unrealeased
Nights unslept diary stories secretly kept
My house is not a home
It smells with cigarettes and alcohol
With sorrow and loneliness
My house is such mess same as
My clothes my hair
My decisions my bed
My head
My head
Running away
Running Running Running
Shortest way to go
Way to go
Running from my own
From my own
Sure music comes from GOD
Wish HE could ever touch me but
Yet not yet not
Imagination lack
Looks like there above HE wants something back
Running away
Running Running Running
Running away
Running from my own
From my own
My house is not a home
Running away is running from my own
Shame fears unforgivable sins
All that mess same as
My clothes my hair
My decisions my bed
