Home is where the heart is.
Home is where Taiwanese people
Hock their wares at the top of their lungs
As you're pressed on every side
By the crush of people filling the lanes
Of the night market.
Home is where crazy San Franciscians
Roam the hills in shorts with jackets in hand
In case the fickle Weather changes his mind
Or they wander too far west
Into the land of perpetual fog and mist.
Home is wherever you are.
Or at least that's what home used to be.
But since you've gone away,
My heart is a thousand pieces.
Home needs a whole heart.
And mine isn't anymore.
So every day I'm homesick
For a place that will never be.
Home is now just in my memories.