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Last To Make It Home by Sam Fender
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The semantics are totally outdated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
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