There is no home.

The trees are always alive here
Everything is green, always
Not like home
With its brown all year round
Brown and fires and cold mountains

Home
Where a little smiling face sits
Not knowing who I am
I dream of those cold mountains
And that smiling face

Lingering lingering lingering
My mind is just lingering between the two places
Stay or go
Stationary, I stay

But maybe I’m already gone
Away from the blue sea and green grounds
Back to the brown
The memories of people who no longer exist
The memory of a me who no longer exists

I don’t think I can find her
I don’t think I want to
So I’ll stay
And dream in black and white
So I can’t tell which is which

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