Don’t feel like home, he’s a little out
And all these words elope, it’s nothing like your poem
Putting in, in putting in, don’t feel like methadone
A 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, a one-way ticket headstone
Occupations overthrown, a whisper through a megaphone