Came back home, all the roads had different names,
all my friends had moved away,
the signs keep changing.
Never certain anymore, called an old friend on the phone,
to hear his voice just to know
I'd still see him in a year or so.
home's not what it was, means something different now
north takes the place of south
on a compass spinning
rivers change course while I sleep,
the old maps that I have
are no longer of use
Though the landscapes change, you yourself will remain,
same broken thing, a different place,
what difference did you think it'd make?
Can't escape mistakes, didn't seem wrong but it wasn't right
can't trust the words, can't trust my sight,
nothing left I can define.
Oh vacant, broken language -
words, stay the same,
don't leave me with names
for people now strangers
Came back home,
and I held my father
but my father was old
and my structures of meaning
are starting to fold
and I keep thinking in a tense suspended
between what it means in my mind
and the writing still wet on the changing signs.
the rooms I walk through now, something in them is broken down
names on doors in a quiet house,
all that's left is leaving now
I'll remain as I am, but I can't call it a stand,
when what I've built here in the sand,
is fast and fleeting, a broken meaning.
Stay the same for one more year
and tell me you'll still be here.
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