That home.

There is a house built out of stone, wooden floors, walls and window cells, tables and chairs worn by all of the dust. This is a place where I don't feel alone, this is a place where I feel at home.

And I built a home, for you, for me

Until it disappeared from me, from you.

And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust.

Out in the garden where we planted the seeds, there is a tree as old as me. Branches were sewn by the colour of green, ground had arose and passed its knees.

By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top, I climbed the tree to see the world. When the gusts came around to blow me down, held on as tightly as you held on me.