Someone tells me of a little blue window that holds the sky and the sun.
Another owns a little tiled shelter that holds the rain when it comes.
Someone else descibes how beautiful it is to bask in her day and her night
But I haven't quite understood how, because none have ever been mine.
A friend showed me his eyes and in them, how he kept the snow.
He complained that now, because that's where he kept it, his eyes had grown cold.
Another was irritated that he couldn't keep watch over his sea.
But I haven't quite understood how, because none ever belonged to me.
I met a stranger then, one night, whose God listened when he prayed.
And then another on another night who kissed his memories away.
I smiled at them and bade them luck, but my pretense showed
Because I haven't quite understood how because I've never really known.
Someone loves his own voice and loves someone else's song.
Someone cried with all her hatred all her life long.
Someone else's rebellion spilt on someone else's throne,
But I don't quite understand, you see, I've never really owned.
I would like to know, I would, but I don't know how it could be
To own the sun and the stars, the snow, the memories and the sea.
I wonder how it is to feel to have a home with a little blue window
But I don't quite know that feeling yet, I've never really been home.