When Winter hits I'll be wishing I was still young,
but when Summer's around I'm still biting my tongue.
We both know that the storms have always been mine,
I never claimed to be blue skies and sunshine.

Atleast the nights are almost always cold,
but they keep me warm with the beauty of the stars.
Shining wishes for all, or so I'm told,
accessories for both Jupiter and Mars.

The snow covers all with blinding white,
but in the Summer the grass could always be more green.
We both know the storms have always been mine by rite,
'cause the blue skies were never truly clean.

You know every four season,
time has never moved so fast.
They've all blended for no reason,
never disappearing but they never last.
The world turns, the moon shines,
The sun burns, Nature's designs.

When Winter hits I'll be wishing I was still young,
but when Summer's around it still seems Spring never sprung.
We both know the storms we're always made for me,
I have always been the rain and you the sea.

You know every four season,
time has never moved so fast,
freezing to death when I let the breeze in,
and the outcome never matches the forecast.
The world turns, the moon shines,
and everyone yearns, everyday for some signs.

Pack up my personality,
make sure the tape really sticks.
This home has been my totality,
every board and all the bricks.
Throw away my secrets,
we'll need a bag just for those,
and I hope I won't have to repeat this,
but I don't want those stains on my clothes.
The woman makes the threads anyways, I suppose.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
it gave me warmth and so much more,
when I was stranded it was my shore,
home is where the heart is, so says the lore.

Put away my memories,
in a box that's labeled "fragile,"
'cause even though they'll lift with ease,
I'd prefer for them all not to pile.
Throw away the forgotten fights,
the ones that always left the scars.
Make sure to only bring the nights,
with the brightest moon and stars,
but they won't fit into such small cars.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
where I sat dazed on the floor,
feeling high enough to soar,
home is where the heart is, but I'm lacking that core.

Store away my personality,
the one that fits me like a glove,
all the things that compile of me,
and illustrate all the things I love.
Throw away the parts of me that are broken,
I don't think I'll ever long for them,
but wait, maybe I've just misspoken,
cause that's the root of my twisted stem,
even a damaged jewel is still a gem.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
and there won't be twenty-four more.
It'll be the last time that I close that door,
I have no idea what's now in store,
home is where the heart is, but my chest is bruised and sore.

So say goodbye to Tower,
a street where once I walked each path,
where I knew each tree and flower,
and love's bliss and heartbreak's wrath.
Also say farewell to family,
well essentially it's only the dwelling,
but I don't know what life has planned for me,
as with the future there is no telling.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
there won't be twenty-four more.
It'll be the last time that I close that door,
I'll open a window to even the score,
home is where the heart is, but the beats feel like a chore.

There was once a man
Who looked at the moon and asked
"Is there anything I could ask,
that you can answer?"
There was no reply,
as expected.

The next morning, there was a dog.
The man crouched down
in front of the dog and asked
"What are you up to today?"
The dog walked past,
as expected.

In the afternoon, there was a girl.
She was sitting on a bench in the park.
The man sat beside her and asked
"Are you waiting for someone?"
She kept gazing at the sunset,
as expected.

Night falls in a pub in the city.
There's a drunken man, had many bottles.
The man approached him and asked
"Is something the matter?"
The man finally collapsed after too much drinks,
as expected.

Lastly, in a room there are antiques.
One is a mirror in an intricate frame.
The man looked at the mirror and asked
"How do you feel today?"
There was no reflection,
as expected.