We’re such strange creatures.
We strive for so much more, we demand so much change
We’re always wanting for something different
And yet, we’re most comfortable with familiarity.
Promises made, in a bed for two.
A room made, for me and you.
The smell of cooking meals for two.
Replaced by broken dishes and midnight tunes.
Dust gathered on barely living lights.
Remind me of the days we used to fight.
Enough is enough.
You took your things, and left.
Leaving me with thoughts of you.
A bed, a meal, a room, made for two.
I hope, I wish, I want
To come back to the same old room.
