The paint has grown much thinner
and there are veils of dust on pictures,
but our swollen eyes see through the faded shades and hues.
The floors, walls, and ceiling
bear witness to the love and devotion.
They help the tales of pain and loss to seem far less bitter.
Maybe these sights will bring new prudence,
maybe warm nights will come as vagrants.
This day is over now and I forgot the time,
I forgot the sound of welcome home.
These fleeting sights are more than memory,
so feed the flames and trust your feet.
Worry and loss aren’t overbearing
if we keep our hearts from growing weary.
Maybe our lives are for the better,
or maybe our cries were meant to weather.
Certainly our hearts will grow
in ways we would have never known
had we never felt the pain that breaks
even the brightest of souls.
This day is over now and I forgot the time,
I forgot the sound of welcome home.
My darling…
My darling…
Welcome home,
my darling.
This day is over now and I forgot the time,
I forgot the sound of welcome home.
This day is over now. I’m beaten,broken down,
longing for the sound of…
Oh, will this empty house ever bring the sound of welcome home.
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