Matthew Good:The Boy Come Home

While I go over it in my head
I walk through those doors
Stand there staring

There ain't one soul that's in there dead
My hand stays out
To keep my head

Walking out I see you sitting
In that Ford of your old man's
Scratching your arms
Like your skin is crawling
But done up the best you can

Faith was piling through your window
Them Papas they can't tell
Strange to think we could have been so
Brought up by ourselves
Run through the streets like rivers raging
To seize our baron sand
While other grain tears you apart
Stay done up the best you can

Unemployment lines stretched to the desert
And our camouflaged hotels
We're traded up to new distinctions
Puts justice in your shells
Take one for the team, that pretty lady
Used to cover up the smell
When you get back boy you're just crazy
If you dare kiss and tell

This aching heart ain't something I done
This aching heart's been handed down
But I'm done with it now

So I take this screaming in my head
I walk through those doors
And stand there staring
My hand slips into my coat
And everything just freezes
Running out I see you sitting
In that Ford of your old man's
The boy come home, yeah
The boy come home, yeah