Sam Fender — Last To Make It Home

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Текст Sam Fender — Last To Make It Home

Mary, what looked like a mirage
made of glimmering silver in sunken eyes,
it was actually there in the palm of my hand
but your existence is widely debated.

I’m godless and wrecked
but I can’t live by those steps.
The semantics are totally outdated
and the love I had is never enough.
It bores me and leaves me frustrated.

I’m the last to make it home.
I’m the last to call if off.
I’m the last to make my bed,
last to bring home the bread.
Last to make it home.

Mary, you were online.
The sociopathic part of me
hit the “Like” in the hopes I’d coax
you out of my derelict fantasy.

A bump in the road
turned in to the fissure I currently live in,
and though I am a soundboard to some,
with myself I am not so forgiving.

I’m the last to make it home.
I’m the last to call if off.
I’m the last to make my bed,
last to bring home the bread.
Last to make it home.

I’m the last to make it home.
I’m the last to call if off.
I’m the last to make my bed,
last to bring home the bread.
Last to make it home.

Mary, what looked like a mirage
glimmering silver in sunken eyes.