I thought I was building walls
But I merely left the gates on rusty hinges
When I was laying traps
The floors became squeaky
I wanted to close the curtains
But I think I pulled them down too hard
So I saw you driving back here
I heard the sound of metals screeching
And your first step behind the door
The paint is still fading
The kitchen faucet still leaking
Cobwebs cover the ceiling
But I don't mind
You are the only one that make this place home.