We'll leave at dusk with only that which we can carry

Whatever's left gets burned or buried

For if by chance we return

We'll leave a note

To Whom It May Concern:

F**k you and your front lawn

I'd rather die with my hands tied than holding a gun

There's no place like home for collecting burdens

And conjuring ghosts that don't know they're dead

Soon there's going to be a fight

And we'll all have to choose sides

Like kids on the playground

But everyone's hungry

There's no place like home for collecting burdens

And conjuring ghosts that don't know they're dead

He insists that he's just sick and I don't have the heart

To tell him any different

It's the way it's been and the way it will be until we leave

We don't need a mirror

We don't need those pictures on the wall

We don't need to see ourselves as we are now

To remember where we came from

We'll leave at dusk with only that which we can carry

I'll get the dog you get the baby

And pray that there's a god to light our way