There's no place like home.

No frightening stone to throw,
like the bitter ones we know
will wrap us in hate.

There's nothing left on the plate--

No visions of doom to run around
with you in a room,
no prisons of gauche delight
to sing a tune.

There's nothing left to do,
no time with which to prune your wings,
to shear the hair you've grown
and nothing else you seem to have known
is ever coming back.

There's no place like home.

Nothing here you know.