I have paid to you my dues.

Bereft of a home, I have for so long
usurped the homes of men; but now
I have paid to you my dues.

In the hearts of men I've built my homes,
the hammocks that have rocked my bones;
to rest, a makeshift bed-
Two arms to come back home to, a roof
over my head. In search of a lighted hearth
from which I wouldn't be turned away;
unknowingly, I've been searching for home:
a place called mine to stay.


The marooned heart of a little girl that never
quite belonged; never quite was wanted,


like a brushstroke that went wrong
in a masterwork's final touch:
a stroke of fate to be to-le-rate
-ed -- but always one too much


In love I have no trust at all,
but they offered me their trembling souls;
so I opened up their chests,
and slowly built in there my nests,
- now I know that that was wrong.

I have usurped the homes of men
in my desperate haste to belong:


But I have paid my dues; and now
could I have my slate wiped clean?
I've sold my soul
to buy them love, paid penances unseen
to hear them say, I've done so much:
gave you a home, you fucking bitch--

but you wouldn't have said that, would you?

if I had had another home to go?

Home should be a birthright.

father, mother, you should know;

I've made my homes in hollowed coves

in chests of men, and now

I know why I could never take root;

those homes were broken, too-

a place of shelter built of clay

like the lonely wayfarer's rest,

a stop on the traveler's way.

And while for my stay, I am thankful-

a house built by a man

will never withstand

the turbulent tornado's test.

So now I've paid my penances,

and never once again

will I try to build myself a home

in the borrowed hearts of men.