On my way home, I hoped that every passing car out on the road was you
Catching up to tell me something resembling the truth
But you haven't even said you're sorry yet, so instead
Would you tell me this:
Did you hesitate on your way through the door?
On your way home, did you make peace with everything that you'd done wrong
Or you decide that it was my fault all along?
Did you think of me when you left the jewelry I gave you there on purpose
As if you needed a clever reason to return
Did you hesitate on your way through the door
Or did it make you feel more alive or less responsible this time
For what you left behind?
And will you think of me
When all the guilt builds a home in all your good days?
Did you hesitate on your way through the door
Or did it make you feel more alive or less responsible this time
For what you left behind?