Remember when the streets would maze.
Surrounded us with familiar names, holidays, and model trains to guide us.
All alone with family now.
Not on my own but lost in sound with all that noise that haunts this house.
When I grow up with no regrets or failed attempts at innocence I'll pledge allegiance to myself.
 [bad word] home to broken beds and shattered stairs and loneliness. Why am I still here? [bad word] home to all the faces that you're trying [bad word] from. Why am I still here?

I can't wait to leave.
I wonder what grows past the city. I wonder what makes a ghost town. I care about all of the people, but I'll box all of favorite things.