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your existence is widely debated I'm godless and wrecked, but I can't live by those stakes The semantics are totally outdated And the love I had is never enough It bores me and and leaves me frustrated I'm the last to make it home I'm the last to call it off I'm the last to meet my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 into A fissure I currently live in 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 it off I'm the last to meet 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 it off I'm the last to meet my bed Last to bring home the bread Last to make it home Mary, looked like a mirage Glimmering silver in sunken eyes --- Last To Make It Home - Sam Fender