Home

Cherry red lipstick and roses
Tea time and poems
satin beauty

Clock parts and crunching gears
and numbers
in your mind your work is
a place like home

Is there no place like home?

yes, no, no place like home

but everyone's heart beats differently
and thus, home could be anywhere

where we feel most alive
or feeling the safest
where we will dance and rejoice 
by crawling into a corner, sleeping is deep here
willows, willows, even up in your branches
in mind, on the back of a crow, flying everywhere
and nowhere at all

in your sweet dreams at night
where you, lovely as you are, can pretend that you are not normal.
A pretty little flower in a magazine no longer
but with paint on your palms and ambition in your eye
That you do not have adults that fight over you, not for you

Yes, no, no place like home.

I dance in the moonlight, I fly past the stars
I have seen the other side of the moon in my dreamless sleep
and it is beautiful.

I have sung alone in meadows in my night-dreams
for in this 'reality' that we insist upon fighting over
I am a person.
And as such I have fear
and bad 'luck'
and pain

And The choir is singing along to the music of our day here

I've sailed the wildest seas at home
I've died and died again at home
I've had no more pain at home
I have failed and won at home

and the bumblebees will, and the blood will, and you will
we all have gone home
time
and beautiful tick-tocking time
again