Home is an interesting concept to me.
I always swore I’d never make a person my home
Because when that house catches fire
You’ll have lost things no insurance company can replace.

When your favorite pictures and records have all melted
You’ll find that you never made copies of any of them.
Now what’s left are the memories that too are faded by
The smoke and ashes, product of a flame burned too bright.

Well this home caught flames quicker than flash paper
And I can’t seem to find my favorite mixtapes.
I guess the sparks were more than we could handle
And suddenly this home was just a house turned wildfire.