Текст песни Last To Make It Home - Sam Fender

Mary, what looked like a mirage
Made of glimmering silver in sunken eyes
It was actually there in the palm of my hand
But your existence is widely debated
I'm godless and wrecked, but I can't live by those stakes
The semantics are totally outdated

And the love I had is never enough
It bores me and leaves me frustrated

I'm the last to make it home
I'm the last to call it off
I'm the last to make my bed
And last to bring home the bread
And last to make it home

Mary, you were online
The sociopathic part of me
Hit the "like"
In the hopes I'd coax you out of my derelict fantasy
A bump in the road turned into
A fissure I currently live in

Though I am a soundboard to some
With myself I am not so forgiving

I'm the last to make it home
I'm the last to call it off
I'm the last to make my bed
And last to bring home the bread
And last to make it home

I'm the last to make it home
I'm the last to call it off
I'm the last to make my bed
And last to bring home the bread
And last to make it home

Mary, looked like a mirage
Glimmering silver in sunken eyes