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