Do you want to know where home is?
I thought home was where your memories sat.
The places, you look to,
eyes closed,
when what you see in front of you,
isn't living up to
all of that.
But as someone who lives in the sky,
always looking down and wondering why,
all those places I need to be,
Why I am never welcomed back,
Once I have been set free?
Cause, this caged bird, said,
“Bye, Bye”
That's all she can say.
That's all you want to hear.
That's why things aren't right today,
but tell me why, dear,
So why now can I see
that vintage cage, so clear?
Do you want to know where home is?
I thought home was where your loved ones are-
or just the people you can reach by car-
are those the people that you love?
or are those just people above you-
are they really the people who love you?
And if they ever stop, well,
whatever will you do?
So how does a heart work-
If you're too busy saving face?
The deep insides of everything.
If you're not allowed to love
more than one person
Yeah, they said I'm not allowed to love
more than one place, so,
Caged bird has no loyalties
she just says“Bye, Bye”
That's all she can say.
And everyone wonders why
That's all they want to hear.
So why now can I see
that gilded cage, so clear?
Well, you want to know where home is,
well you're asking someone whose never known it.
Home is where you were raised, and risen.
Home is just a prison
Home is just a refuse
Home is just a refuge
Home is where you left your heart
and home is where you find your
heart and home is where you break
your heart and home is where you
lost it. Home is where you buried it,
and where you burned it, home is
where you learned it.
and home is where you are haunted,
home is where you are wanted.
Home is where you're wanted.
That's why.
That's why the caged bird, said,
“Bye, Bye”
That's all I can say.
That's all you want to hear.
Tell me why, now,
I can only see the sky,
so clear?
Monday, May 17, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
-
August 2003! A spree, and the W.A.P another month of you and possibly me W.A.P stands for wild animal park, if you don't remember- the ...
-
In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across but...
-
To those who forget Poesy, like she's the wallflower at the dance I'm sorry you've never known words to be like picnic ants infe...
-
I might even chance to stand on your back, for a lift, I wish my conscience could shirk the endless streaming seeds, inside my head, your br...
-
My latest endeavor is to begin reading "Tell it Slant: Writing and Shaping Creative Nonfiction" by Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paula...
-
there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
-
you knew I was talented, but you forgot. you knew I had potential, but you forgot. you knew I was gifted, but you forgot. you knew I had the...
-
in August for John Keats I didn't die unrequited. I took a wife in August. My wife was wearing silky white shoulders holding out her bon...
No comments:
Post a Comment