A Soldier's Home...

There's something about this doorway that's making me miss home,
I'm laying here shivering, slave to addiction with my fingerless gloves, 
Words are a few, guilty looks they give me whilst looking at my soldiers clothes, 
Big city lights brighten up the streets, but still, Sunderland is feeling kinda cold.

I've weathered the storms in life, aswel as getting soaked on the once historical nights, 
These streets once roamed with shadows of the brave, now empty souls with no fight!
I'm ashamed just to be alive among this kind, How can I face reality without faking a smile?

You say "there's my hand, there's my heart," but I see your eyes, those empty words fail,
I've battled on other streets, I've heard those cries and the sound never goes away, 
The more I try to hold back my fear, I just want to scream out, I am here! 
This concrete is my stoned home, 
But to some, just dust and bone, 
Just dust and bone.

There's something about this doorway that's making me miss home, 
Big city lights brighten up the streets, but still, Sunderland is feeling kinda cold...