Walking down a lonely street br The thoughts of the day swirl in my mind br Carrying a backpack full of books br On my way home. br I imagine, the smell br the taste, br the feel of home. br Always waiting for me when I come home. br Everyday, I wait to go home. br Just so I can be me. br I arrive at the front door. br A note on the door br Saying, br 'Did you have a good day? br See you in an hour or so.' br I smile and carry my backpack inside. br That's why I always love coming home.