this could be your home, son,
we could have made it yours
but we screwed up the paperwork
and left you with all the broken promises

when once we traded ourselves
for all them goals nowhere to be achieved
to drive these endless fucking lines of cars
with the debris piling up in our backyards

completely forgotten
now doing our everything
to hide the pain
we've forgotten
that we've been forgotten
by those we've forgotten
but they will remember again
they will remember again

and i'm sorry for all this trouble we've created
in this soil you're s'posed to walk someday
i'm sorry for losing the will to fight
no chains have wringed like this before

and from all that paper,
make the most beautiful fire
and screw up the paperwork
for this should be your home, son