I don't plan anything I'm trying to come home. Thoughts of you are always on my mind. A runaway from problems my excuse when I am there. You roll over once again I'm gone. It's old it's plain to see this life of tragedy. Save it for later that's what we always said. What will they do for us, What will they do for us, What will they do for us now? Tried to paint a picture of the times we once shared Never seemed to be so concerned. The story goes like this you say I'm almost never there Independence is what you've always want An arm to hold on someone to sleep next to in the night Rolling over once again I'm gone Look through the backlog and index of thoughts This time it won't get to me.