One last trip along the M6 motorway
and I'm staring down at rubble
and I'm stumped for something smart to say
A home for 9 long months, dismantled overnight
An overwhelming sense of closure, what a sorry sight
Yet somehow everything feels right

I'm not as happy as I'd like to be
but that's no indication of the company I keep
Those days stick in my mind
A part of me never left that place behind.

Wasted days are killers and they're tricky to define
We told a hundred jokes, a thousand stories as we passed the time
Today I'm muttering a bittersweet farewell
The same attachment that a convict feels towards their cell
Standing on that subtle line dividing here and hell

I kept a diary for the best part of three years
a document of all my hopes and fears
I read it back to keep those days in mind
A part of me never left that place behind

No one's as happy as they'd like to be
And anyone who is is heading for a huge catastrophe
Those days were rarely kind
A part of me never left that place behind