Handwritten Memo

I wanna go home

I miss my desk and my chair, and my bed with soft sheets

But it's turned into a wicked lair of prowling wildland beasts

I wanna go home

I miss the hot warm soup over some crimson stove fire

But now a furnace stands there, roaring like a grim, bloody beast

I wanna go home

I miss the golden sunshine and breeze of evening time

But it's now filled with scalding smoke and seizes up our throats

No one wants to go home

Because the place is no longer our own