She met me at the airport with my little baby girls
I mumbled something slurry like I would
As if I’d been around the world
Or just had one too many drinks

I think I slept on the way home and gave them all a kiss
But in a dream I stumbled and I woke up
To the smell of smoke and [bad word] Or is it this clothes I’m in?

It’s all the same when I get back home
I feel I’m somewhere that belongs to us
And in the end when you kiss me
I know that it’s more than just [bad word] 
I write about these little things that mean so much to me
I feel like such a selfish prick at times like this
I guess that I can be
What can I say, I’m sorry?

It’s all the same when I get back home
I feel I’m somewhere that belongs to us
And in the end when you kiss me
I know that it’s more than just [bad word]