Every morning I wake and look at the celling and think
I think to myself
Its just a few more days then I go home
When I think home I'm not thinking of a building
Or a room
Not a place
But you
You are my home
I see that now
I understand why people say
"Home is where your heart is"
You must have stolen my heart long ago
Some people have peices
But you have the whole
I'm glad you have it
I hope you won't hurt it
Home is where the heart is
That's all I have to say

Why does the little bird try?
For he trys in vain,
He trys to fly but he will fall back to the earth again.

I can't remember when I've been happy for this long,
Something is bound to go wrong.