Dancing around potholes in the cobbled street
Sneezing with every swiveling clouds of dust
Home they said is all in the heart,
Luckily, the heart doesn't have eyes.
But does home sound like the heart?
Or like the whistle of the winds on the tin roof,
Or the constant humming of the crystal creek?
Like the heavy footsteps of the tired labourers
Or like the sound of the tired hoe attacking the barren soil?
Sneezing with every swiveling clouds of dust
Home they said is all in the heart,
Luckily, the heart doesn't have eyes.
But does home sound like the heart?
Or like the whistle of the winds on the tin roof,
Or the constant humming of the crystal creek?
Like the heavy footsteps of the tired labourers
Or like the sound of the tired hoe attacking the barren soil?
Home is like my old and tired mother
A hidden world of safety and comfort
Struggling yet strong
Dying yet thriving
Hopes abound
Content!
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