I still sit on the same white porch
Down the street
Just to the right of the bed shades by the window
In my seat the same three pair of shoes
I never worn before sit by the door
Its funny I sit here all alone
I remember a time when this house was made of gold and hopes and dreams
I loved every minute every second and every thought of what it could be
Took four to pay only three two afford, just barely
Its funny I live here all alone
The lights still turn on
The air still blows both hot and cold
The waters still running
All the neighbors still think I'm 12 years old
I'm working on a fiction
So where the hell could all of my friends be
I have no convictions just seven years so I'm able to buy again