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letra de coming home - allister bradley

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coming home, used to mean turning the lock on the old front door
stepping in, and hanging his hat by the clock, like he’s done before
a warm smile to greet him there
flowers in a jar by the bottom stair
evening sun stretched across the floor

coming home, to a place that looks barely the same as it did before
coming back, where the homes have been torn by the strain of a long-fought war
holding letters to someone else’s family
having to tell them how proud thеy should be
fresh tears on his uniform

all this feels forеign now
as foreign as the soil that stained his face
seems he can’t remember how
to just sit down, and turn off the sounds

coming home, to the place where the memories lay, stretching row by row
there are no words to mark the pain, fresh from long ago
too many lives cut short
debating the power of the sword
and the value of living free

all this feels familiar now
familiar as the soil beneath his feet
crosses mark this battleground
where his wonder drowned, as their heads lay down
now and then, he thinks it’s easier denying
but the pain will never go
looking back, he’s got to laugh, to keep from crying
and as he takes his final breath
he’ll say to himself
“i’m coming home”

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