The sun moves on, but the rooms stay the same, I trace your outline in the dust on the frame. The clock on the wall has forgotten its hands, And I keep setting the table for someone who ran. The floorboards remember the weight of your feet, I still leave the door unlocked out of habit, it seems. The roof holds the rain, but the walls let it through, I keep fixing this house like it still belongs to you. The garden grew wild where we buried our seeds, The flowers came back, but they grew without leaves. I pull at the weeds, but the roots hold their ground, Like the words I swallowed that still make no sound. The windows face east, yet the mornings feel gone, I keep waiting for a season that already moved on. There are rooms I avoid, there are locks I won't turn, And a key in my pocket for a door that won't return. I know there's a road beyond the front gate, But I keep finding reasons to make myself wait. If I leave this place, will I leave you behind? Or take these four walls and rebuild them inside? I'm living in a house that was never meant to last, Building new foundations on the bones of the past. The roof is coming down, but I still call it home... For sure I do... (aye aye aye aye) I keep another place set, keep another light on, Keep pretending that you'll come back before dawn. But the house won't let me go, or maybe I won't leave... ...This is the house that never ends I found an old photograph beneath the stairs, Two smiling strangers who believed they had years. Their faces look familiar, but I don't know their names, Just the way that the sunlight used to fall through the panes. I carried all the furniture out to the yard, But the rooms in my head never emptied that far. Now the doorway stands open, and the road looks wide, Yet my feet know the floorboards better than the outside. I measure the years by the nails in the beams, By the holes in the ceiling, the weight of my dreams. I repaint the walls, put the portraits back straight, Tell myself it's too early, then complain that it's late. I sweep up the pieces, I repair what I can, Keep a list of the things that were never in my hands. I can name all the reasons, recite them with ease, But a reason ain't a remedy, and knowing ain't release. So I bargain with the weather, make a deal with the rain, Say I'll leave when the sunlight comes around here again. But the forecast keeps changing, and the seasons move on, While I sit by the window till the feeling is gone. Maybe home isn't somewhere that you earn or defend, Maybe some things must be left without tying a neat end. And the key I've been carrying, worn smooth in my palm, Can't unlock a tomorrow if I won't let it come. I know there's a road beyond the front gate, And I can't keep asking the years to wait. If I leave this place, I can carry what's true, Without keeping these walls as a monument to you. I'm living in a house that was never meant to last, Building new foundations on the bones of the past. The roof is coming down, but I still call it home... (ooh yeah yeah yeah) I keep another place set, but the dust settles in, And the light through the window shows the shape I've been in. Maybe letting go isn't losing what's mine... ...This is the house that never ends I'll take what is mine, leave the rest where it lay, Let the wind through the windows carry something away. Can't promise of a garden, there's no guarantee of spring, Just a road past the gate and the weight of everything. I lived in a house that was never meant to last, Kept rebuilding the future from the bones of the past. Now the roof can come down, I don't need it for home, I can walk through the morning and stand on my own. I'll leave one light burning for the person I was, Not to call them back, just to honor their loss. And if I miss these rooms, I won't call it a sign, Some doors can stay closed without closing my life. The key in my pocket can rust where it lies, There are roads I can take beneath open skies. I don't need to forget what I wanted to keep... ...This is the house that never ends (...This is the house that never ends)
