I feel the summer heat rising through my pores
I'm day dreaming of the nights where
I can count the star constellations and compare them to things you've said to me

I've called the shooting stars old friends
the ones who brought me to realization, which I thank constantly for.
They'll take me back to a place I called home for a long time,
but that home is far condemned now
And I have become a nomad within my heart
for I have allowed myself to walk the streets of the outside of my home
and saw the definition of condemned when I looked at the youth of the ******
maybe this is a cry for help,
or maybe it's just what you wanted me to see

I get it, but I signed the paperwork to knock down the home for safety
I mean; who would want to live in a home that gives you heartache every time you walk through the door way?

Well, as far as I know
The shooting stars have said they've found blue prints for me
'It's an idea, you see'
They showed me what a safe house was,
It has blue window panes and a fence
Where the other had an off-green window pane and looked like world war 2 happened all around and inside.
'I know you don't know much about repairs and new, but maybe this is best for you. Ya know?'
Maybe you're right,
but all I know is fear and uncertainty.

It's an idea,
I'll read through these notes later.