somehow    he makes it past the room they shared   the twenty years before she killed him   she drowned him with a letter left on a desk   and with every step it echoes       through the empty house      i'm leaving   i'm leaving you   i don't love you      somehow he visits the old and worn   smiles on sunday at church-scrubbed faces   and celebrates Christmas   with fewer lights this year   there's fewer lights this year      i'm leaving   i'm leaving you   i don't love you      and every day he still falls and prays   take me home   take me home