To Make This House A Home

There’s nothing,

that I can say,

to make you not go.

To make you come back,

To make this house a home. 

But I’ll live,

I’ll break my back,

I’ll live by the tracks,

I’ll gain all I lack. 

To make myself a man. 

There’s so many,

friends and family,

who say I won’t,

amount to nothing. 

But if I let go of my ego,

I can finally breathe.

They all still think I’m wrong,

because I belong to the Otherside. 

But I’ll take back,

all my morals.

So I’ll be fine and clean. 

Is it so hard to see me?

I was your pariah. 

Now I live much like,

the mortals,

that live in the streets. 

I know it’s hard,

to understand,

my thinking. 

Waiting for,

the Demagogues,

to take me away. 

But there’s so much,

understanding,

now I can see. 

I see you across the street,

not believing what you see. 

The path I have chose,

among the righteous and the pius. 

I see you not believing in me. 

Not thinking I could see,

the path I can take,

to turn this house into a home. 

Now I can’t believe I lived,

wished to be where you stood,

wanted to make your house a home. 

You’re just like the Demagogues,

taking away from richeous,

corrupting the minds of men. 

To think,

I wished to make your house a home.

Remember me