I don't know how, don't know what, don't know where,
Maybe my eyes, or my ears, or in the air,
But I'm weak, and I'm tired
I'm no good at waiting to be inspired.
I've been resting a little too long now,
I'd start a new day, but I'm not sure how to begin,
'Cause i've never had an end.
I'm almost alone,
And i don't want to be alone,
But this is only almost home.
And I'm scared,
I really thought I'd be prepared,
But sometimes strangers feel a little bit too strange.
No, I'm not sad, just unsure and immature,
But I've found it's not just me, it's in everything I see.
With each shallow, dull conversation,
We dig ourselves into deep isolation where we stay,
'Cause we've never learned any other way.
And we all feel alone,
But I don't think that we're alone,
'Cause we're all looking for a home.
And we're scared,
The only thing we have prepared
Is how to be a stranger among strangers.
Is there anything stranger, when we all want to have a home?
I guess we're always almost home.