So here you are
Back in one of your homes
You fetch a jar
And drink alone
The kitchen's tidy
The windows clean
The fridge is filled up
But your body's lean
You crash on the couch
You feel like a foreigner
Then you go out take your bag
Ready packed in the corner
In the moment the door is clicking shut
You know your engine will never stop
Living a life on a spinning record
Home is a dust collector
Life in passing
You're always on the hop
Always on the road
That's the job
You'd driven nails into the wall
And you'd built in new doors
And you'd done everything
To have the setting you were looking for
Now the kitchen's still tidy
And the windows clean
The food's rotten
That's downright mean
In the moment the door is clicking shut
You know your engine will never stop
Living a life on a spinning record
Home is a dust collector