The long walk home,
back to a no name town.
Where people pass me by
in red and white lines.
Your only son can't make you proud.
The moon and stars, this frozen clock.

And if in years [bad word] we can talk like friends,
can I close my eyes and wake up then?

Drown out the sound of adulthood
with songs that fell from out of space.
At seventeen I wouldn't dare to dream
because hope's a dangerous thing.

I won't thank god, I'll thank my friends,
for sticking by till we're home again.
What matters most to me belongs to you.
Hope's a dangerous thing.

I pinch myself to see,
that if this curtain drops, this isn't me.
Pack my bags, no time to waste.
We leave no trace of us.
Still my pillow rings.