Home From the Wars

Maybe it’s that feeling you get
just beyond the hill
when you see all the city lights.
Maybe it’s that feeling you get
at the bottom of a bottle
and then it really hits you.
You’re never, never, coming home from the wars.
You let your whole life be defined by it -
moments you can’t prevent.
Every last drop until you forget.
Maybe it’s the feeling you get
when you feel like dying
under the blurry street lamps.
Maybe it’s the feeling you get
under a bath tub of water
and then it really hits you -
You’re never, never, coming home from the wars.