There are so many days, he comes home.
Exhausted to the core and aching for relaxation.

It's obvious when it didn't go his way,
When sleep was beyond reach the night before or someone just grated on his nerves all day long.

And there's only so much you can do, only so much you can say
Until you just stay in your room, locked away.

All you can think is maybe tomorrow will be better,
Tomorrow, he'll be home early and maybe, just maybe, he'll have a smile on his face.

Maybe tomorrow he won't come home to shattered phone screens and solemn faces,
Maybe tomorrow he won't hate his job as much as the day before.