Will I ever have a home to call my own?
A home to call my own?
Call my own.
My own.
Home.

I just want a home that I can call my own,
Doesn’t have to be grand or lots of land,
Im fine with the quaint and some peeling paint,
If that’s what it has to be, at least someone heard my plea.

I can’t see through the darkness in front of me,
See darkness in front of me,
In front of me,
Hear my plea,
From me.

I’m just another human begging for revolution,
Caught in a landslide and there’s nowhere to hide,
How am I to hope if I don’t have a rope,
What’s left for us in this unjust land of ours?

Will I ever have a home to call my own?
A home to call my own?
Call my own.
My own.
Home.