Coming Home

Oh, sweet sorrow Let's write the book tomorrow For I caught a glimpse Been obsessed with it ever since My eyes no longer weak amongst the clarity That you pronounce in me Won, you have won My illumination has begun I am happily indifferent to the ones Who have consistently been wrong And all that once confined us Like minutiae at its finest now is gone Oh, sweet sorrow Let's write the book tomorrow My eyes no longer weak amongst the clarity That you pronounce in me I am happily indifferent to the ones Who have consistently been wrong And all that once confined us Like minutiae at its finest now is gone And all that that lies before me like the asphalt Lures me forward towards home, home, coming home