lyrics
I used to call this place my home,
I never, thought I'd stare, upon these cracks again.
Is it getting younger each day? Or have I fallen back through time, to see, foundations growing from the soil?
Ivy curling through the stems,
That make our lives whole, they make a house a home.
And I turn through pages, of words,
These metaphors, intent for purpose,
I'm not a poet, or a person,
But I don't know it.
This pen on paper, makes me tired,
I feel the fire burning in myself,
My lust, my passion, my feeling, and my soul,
My home, it lives inside you.
My home, is you.
Close the door, and walk away.
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