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I can’t even get lost
When the woods are tall
And the light is low
And I always come back home
Like a hermit crab crawling
Past a shell she’s outgrown

A little less in control
A little duller each day
Like a painting fading on the living room wall
Where the light is low
Where the kids moved away
Where the parents are old
Where the mortgage gets paid
Just in time for the doctors to call

Power isn’t taking
It’s making you give in freely
And I hope you don’t come home
And think it’s enough to be near me

Did you know that most people die
Within a couple of miles
Of the place they spend their whole lives?
What can be said of desire
When every longing instilled in my heart
Was instilled in such a violent world?