the place i call home is a lonely street
full of busy people who look down on me
they rush past with angry faces
not stoping to help, just keep busy paces
i cry out for help, from this place i call home
yet no one will stop for they keep to thier own
as my strenght fades and day turns to night
i look to the street lamps as they burn with new light
this place i call home is just an alley way
where bad people meet through night and through day
as i crawl to a corner to find a nights peace
i lay and think that no one cares for me, not in the least
the place i call home is my broken heart
dirty and empty, wanting love from the start
when the streets are empty i run for home
a retreat to my heart where i am alone
the place i call home can be anywhere
as long as im safe i don't really care
if my home had a roof or walls
that would be better, better than all
the place i call home has never been real
just a place where im safe, or thats how i feel
the place i call home has never been nice
and i've never stayed more than once, not even twice.
 Picturesque Honey · Mon Apr 20, 2009 @ 11:34pm · 0 Comments |
