I only knew you from
Three months of tour and a cellular phone.
We talked of the Midwest

And I learned of all that you left behind.

Oh, and the loss runs deep.

Your father and a friend,
A rug pulled from your feet,
But I'll try and give you a place

To lay your tired head and hide your only face.

There's a bed waiting for you.

There's a light that I left on.
There's a purpose for the distance
And the things that I've done wrong


You came to stay with us.
A weekend itself [?]

You weren't missing much.
The day that you left it rained
And the cold weather up north was calling your name.

So I helped to pack your bags,
Folding your shirts, the clothes on your back.
Home never felt so far.

In the morning I felt sweaters you dropped in my front yard.

There's a bed waiting for you.

There's a light that I left on.
There's a purpose for the distance
And the things that I've done wrong.

There's a place that you live in
A town that you call home.
There's a state that you visit

But you never stay too long.

You're careful how hold yourself.

I know,
You worry what might happen but I swear
It won't.

So I'm waiting for your voice to make a sound,
But I know every word before they leave your mouth.


There's a bed waiting for you.
There's a light that I left on.
There's a purpose for the distance

And the things that I've done wrong.
There's a place that you live in
A town that you call home.

There's a state that you visit
But you never stay too long.