Route 904

Too many wars ended with nothing
Still no peace
Too many vicious words swallowed
Escapes unreleased
Nights unslept
Diary stories secretly kept
My house is not a home
It smells with cigarettes and alcohol
With sorrow and loneliness
My house is such mess
Same as
My clothes, my hair
My decisions, my head
Running away
Running, running, running
(Way to go, way to go, way to go)
Running from my own
(Shortest way to go)
Shortest way to go
Way to go
Running from my own
From my own
From my own
Sure music comes from God
Wish He could ever touch me
But yet not yet not
Imagination lack
Looks like there above
He wants something back
Running away
Running, running, running
(Way to go, way to go, way to go)
Running from my own
(Shortest way to go)
Running away
Running from my own
Running from my own
From my own
From my own
My house is not a home
Running away is running from my own
Shame, fears, unforgivable sins
All that mess
Same as
My clothes, my hair
My decisions, my bed