These many years, I've felt aloof,
Though I've never lacked a roof.
My roots, cast down, refuse to hold.
They find the solid dead and cold.
So while I always have a house,
And heap praise on it with my mouth,
My heart's not there. It's off, alone.
I am a man without a home.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 7:53 AM UTC
These many years, I've felt aloof,
Though I've never lacked a roof.
My roots, cast down, refuse to hold.
They find the solid dead and cold.
So while I always have a house,
And heap praise on it with my mouth,
My heart's not there. It's off, alone.
I am a man without a home.
