there's a white fence now in the run-down yard of my first house
it's getting harder and harder to say
do you feel at home whenever you draw the windows open to let the light in?
are your siblings still outside fighting?
i want to be totally reckless with you in suburban streets
breaking into houses where we used to live
and sleeping under stranger's sheets
your friends say that they know what's best but i don't think that's true
we both know that in a year or so everything will feel like new
to change like every road that's been repaved and painted so what's old seems more inviting
but a crash is still exciting
i want to be totally reckless
i'll shoot at the cops while you hop the fence
i don't care if they ever forget
your friends say that they know what's best but i don't think that's true
we both know that in a year or so everything will feel like new
so the next time you pass through
could you remember how we
framed ourselves when we were young
next to where our guilt was hung
depicting everything we're running from
so if home is where the heartache is i hope
that the next time you pass through
it won't feel that way for you
there's a chance that we could block out things we did before
on the other side of the door
if home is where the heartache is i hope it's not for you