Incense draws me in
A once familiar scent
Your pets greet me by the front door
The only remnants left
Of wasted lazy Sundays
Locked in our heads
Only free
Through the writing of our pens
Whether you're a writer, singer, or serial killer
You can't run away from love
No you can't run away from love
I walk past the stairs
Straight to the living room
Your piano's still on the back wall
Without you it sounds out of tune
I still hear you playing
And singing along
But now the words
Are long gone
Whether you're a writer, singer, or serial killer
You can't run away from love
No you can't run away from love
I take one last look
Through the glass kitchen door
Until I can't stand the mess
Just can't take it anymore
I step down to the backyard
My legs begin to give
I drop into a deck chair
As sirens draw near
Whether you're a writer, singer, or serial killer
You can't run away