When I Think of Home, I Think of Comfort

When I think of home, I think of comfort, Where the sweet pictures wipe away my hurt, I think of the time when I walk in here first, Where the walls greeted me, so I heard. Although I know that I have a home, I know some sleep on a floor of stone. For those unlucky cry and weep, They feel like they're underwater, feet deep. For those who are hurting, Let me be your mirror, Help you see a little bit clearer, The real meaning of home. Home is not a thing you can touch, Not something you can see, No, it is not weird much, It is a place of memories. It is a place where you can shed your tears Let it happen, my dear, Home is of peace, Do not let it cease. So if you ask me what home means, It's where I can live out my wildest dreams, Of being lazy, eating junk food, And being in a happy, comfortable mood.