some irish sounding ditty fuck if i know

there's something uncertain in building a home;
like colouring in-between the lines -
filling in for the places you might rather roam
while you're caught up in other designs.

well you're filling in rooms that are otherwise bare,
rearranging the pieces that mark that you're there.
it's siring a solitude you'd sooner stay,
when you're tired of wandering up and away,

home sweet home:
come get rested and ready to face a new day.

there's something in keeping that first little toy,
in starting in filling up the shelf;
in saving a trinket that some might destroy.
what it says, it says for yourself, oh -

you're building in pieces, in corners and nooks,
you're filling in spaces with tokens and books.
you're writing in histories, caught in the view;
a place in the world that's reflected in you -

home sweet home:
come get warm where the welcome is never more true.