I feel like a stranger in my own home



is it the house that has become estrange


or is it me? What hath little did change

Walking around as your treasured drone
Crushing my spirit with no room to roam

Whose fault for my suffers in a cage



Our silly games playing years up on stage


I am your precious little glass stone

Numbing from your simple touch of cold love

In your mind you think it’s good for me

Though it’s the very thing I’m sick of


Days in chains, dark haze lifts to see

Forevermore still mind mourning dove


That I have always had the key to be