Halfway home 

and ready to turn around

but i can't turn around my dream

(five days a week 

i go to sleep at dawn, 

and feel alone although you're warm. )



halfway home 

and ready to drag it out 

because this slowing down 

suits me. 

(oh what way did i take to come to this place?

Oh what way did i take to get here?)



Halfway home 

and ready to turn around

but i can't turn around my dreams

(five days a week, 

i drive you home from work 

and see the way 

your face is marked with fatigue. 

fatigue suits me.)



I can't turn around and this slowing down suits me



and i'm feeling neglected anyway. 

it's the reason i'm leaving you.