Don’t feel like home,.. he’s a little out…
And all these words elope,.. it’s nothing like your poem…
Putting in,.. inputting in,.. don’t feel like methadone…
Scratching voice.. all alone,.. it’s nothing like your baritone
It’s nothing as it seems,.. the little that he needs,. it’s home
The little that he sees,.. is nothing. He concedes,.. it’s home

One uninvited chromosome,.. a blanket like the ozone.
It’s nothing as it seems, all that he needs,. it’s home…
The little that he frees,.. is nothing, he believes…

Saving up a sunny day,.. something maybe two tone…
Anything to call his own,.. a chip off the cornerstone…
Who’s kidding, rainy day,…one way ticket headstone…
Occupations overthrown,.. a whisper thru a megaphone…

It’s nothing as it seems,… the little that he needs,… it’s home
The little that he sees, ..is nothing. He concedes,. it’s home…
And all that he frees,… a little bittersweet,.. it’s home…
It’s nothing as it seems,.. the little that you see,.. it’s home…