And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
But this was not your dream
But you always believed in me
Home -- Michael Bublé
Home for me is nowhere and everywhere. Each place I've lived in holds a piece of me. Memories of the past that I no longer have with me, carefree laughters that only belonged to truly free spirits. The fragments of my past are scattered, flying with the wind, drifting with the ocean current, lying still in the sand, waiting for me to collect them. Home would be what I piece together, it would be me.
Home, where I imagine myself to be one day, living my dreams. But my dreams change forms every time I close my eyes, and when I open my eyes they are shattered by the reality that materializes in front of me. Sometimes I see myself alone in the light, or laughing in the dark, or standing at the edge, between the lines, juggling the choice between myself and other faces.
Home, is how I once felt with you. But now your heart settles elsewhere, though I wonder if even a small piece of it still remains in those parting words we shared that summer afternoon. Now I'm not sure where home is to me, halfway out the door of one and not knowing where my next step leads to. For a while there seemed to be a better place, but when the sunlight came through the window of my room that spring morning you, too, slipped away.
Another summer day
Is come and gone away
In Paris and Rome
But I wanna go home