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On the mantlepiece There's a scrap of leather Like a half-remembered truth or lie And there's a photograph Of a sun-lit garden And the sword that seemed to burn with light The Way It's closed now And I can't go home The Way It's closed now And I can't go home Near the fireplace Black with soot and sorrow Then the absence of synecdoche There's a whetted axe With a weathered handle And the weight of it is dear to me The Way It's closed now And I can't go home The Way It's closed now And I can't go home What if I, what if I just let go? If I just let go From Letras Mania