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Ryan Farish
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Home
We build our houses always out of glass.
Never mind that every time they crash.
Pretty the pictures we keep leaving on display,
Of happy scenes from magazines that we save.
But it never feels right,
Never feels like home.
We step in the daylight so we might grow.
We've been searching, now the seed is sown.
And we won't stop you know,
'Cause will be growing home.
Waking up is not as tough as you think.
Why do we lose ourselves in someone else's dreams?
But even if we get to where you think we should be,
I know the pretty life is not as nice as it seems.
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