don't see this as my home i don't belong here    it's not the final destination of a life    it seems this year the winter won't go nowhere at all    it's late April and the world won't come alive    and born into the hardest cruelest month    scream in the rain and it will fill up your lungs    and i'm drowning in the middle of your street    on my own    and out of time    halfway home    and still behind    they're not here    they won't show    put the drunk drivers on the guest list flag them down don't let them wonder around alone          follow me and i will not deceive you    i bet you're all so sick of the roads that wind through your town    cold scenester girls and dark abrasive bar rooms there is    nothing left out here for me that i have not already found    and it's like wrapping gifts half drunk on christmas eve    passing out inside the room where you were conceived   praying only to the holyness of snow    that does not fall    on your home    tell the drunk drivers in your ghost town there's no safe place down those roads          so sick of this place and can't believe your still here    but those who do not grow and who refuse to change   so follow me to where we might matter somewhere but he    said to me i can't keep living your way    when the fun runs out it's time to pack it in and fade away    but i know and empty bar in nashville we could play    i know an empty bar in black mountain we could play    i know an empty bar in buffalo we could play    either on the road or at home it's all the same    the emptiness of roads is the emptiness of home    the emptiness of home is the emptiness of roads    so wait don't go don't wait for me