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The city I live in is an empty shell,

I remember why I left in the first place

Yet return reluctantly back, wish I had seen worst days

Than the days I'm stuck in hell, the hell in which I call home

Maybe then days wouldn't be so bad 

Old traditions and reputations carry on,

But I'm no longer playing along

To the tune of the song that I used to sing

And all the things that were once my thing

An old, reserved way of going about

Religion clouds this city with doubt

A shroud of judgement filters the air

Because everything I do

Everyone seems to care

It's like this place is in a dome

Cut off from outside, viewed differently from far

Desire to be on the outside, viewing from afar

This place I call home, is one aching scar

That I would rather leave alone and not touch

For everytime I touch, it cuts. Deeper and deeper, I hate to be here

The nostalgia floods, everytime I hear...

The name and place, think of multiple dates, and times I hate, thoughts I thought I loved, kept locked away, but they always resurface, in my mind,

On constant replay.

I want to be somewhere else, somebody else, a new different skin, but I still want to be myself, depending on the place I'm in.

Just not here, not in this place, need a new home, crave a new face. So I'll return for now, to this wretched city, and the feelings I hate.

At least some of the people, make my party of pity easy to wait

Wait until I'm fully out from this place I call home

Give me some years 

And it'll no longer be known

Then I can celebrate.

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