Take Me Home

Home is where [the] leaves Turn orange,
Home is where [the] sickness Waits,
Home is where [the] smell of spices Rise,
Home is where [the] love of comfort Shines,

In truth, home isn’t anywhere in particular,
It doesn’t mean we can commit genocide like Christopher,
For myself, I am fiddler, I enjoy playing with kitchenware,
In the same way a minister, holds the bible as a prisoner,
Everyone I meet, I record a signature, ask if they are a solictor,
Wish to be the opposite of a Prime Minister, rather a petitioner,
A listener, a lover; a parishioner, an inhibitor of peace,

Home is where [the] leaves Turn orange,
Home is where [the] sickness Waits,
Home is where [the] smell of spices Rise,
Home is where [the] love of comfort Shines,

Asked if I love her, no doubt I would cover her,
Just like a hardcover, I promise I am not undercover,
I am not a bluffer, most refer to me as their brother,
It is true I am clever, adore the darkest of color,
Govern as a giver, so that my actions remind me of mother,
Not a hunter, asked if I smother, similar to summer,
Did I stutter? Think of me as an all-loving foster mother,

Home is where [the] leaves Turn orange,
Home is where [the] sickness Waits,
Home is where [the] smell of spices Rise,
Home is where [the] love of comfort Shines,

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