Last To Make It Home

Mary, what looked like a mirage

Made of glimmering silver in sunken eyes

It was actually there in the palm of my hand

But your existence is widely debated

I'm godless and wrecked

But I can't live by those stakes

The semantics are totally outdated

And the love I had is never enough

It bores me and and leaves me frustrated

I'm the last to make it home

I'm the last to call it off

I'm the last to meet my bed

And last to bring home the bread

And last to make it home

Mary, you were online

The sociopathic part of me

Hit the 'like'

In the hopes I'd coax you out of my derelict fantasy

A bump in the road

Turned into a fissure I currently live in

Though I am a soundboard to some

With myself I am not so forgiving

I'm the last to make it home

I'm the last to call it off

I'm the last to meet my bed

And last to bring home the bread

And last to make it home

I'm the last to make it home

I'm the last to call it off

I'm the last to meet my bed

Last to bring home the bread

Last to make it home

Mary, looked like a mirage

Glimmering silver in sunken eyes