It's fire season again
And the ash in the air has my eyes stinging
And I can hear the winter slowly awakening
The mountains are my only goal
So I can shed my skin, and be made whole
And the crisp air and the red clay will be my salvation

Well, your absence sets in with the early frost
And the things that I've loved are the things I have lost
The wheat from the chaff, the sheep from the goats
This year I am becoming my own home
This year I am becoming my home

The birds are already leaving
I guess you got swept in their migration
And now every nest I come across looks abandoned
Pacing every inch of this room
Looking for one spot without memories of you
But the blisters turn to callus if I'll just keep walking

Your absence sets in with the burning trees
And the things that I love are the things that I bleed
The wine from the water, the flesh from the bone
This year I am becoming my own home
This year I am becoming my home
Well I found my way out of this chain-link language
To let my words going without eyeing the finish
The floorboards cracked and rotted till they all fell down
But we couldn't keep our eyes off the ground
With the heat on high, and the windows open
This winding road is the path we've chosen
And the sunrise and the sunset are keeping time
But the only eyes that see them are mine

This year I am becoming my own home
This year I am becoming my own