Where is My Home

It rained today, just like the last few days,
Yet the rain, Has no feel to it,
It's cold and dead, It has no soul,
No warm soothing embrace, There is no home here.

Sure, it is green here, Not like there,
Here is Dull, Here is lifeless, Here is empty,
Here is the place the trees die, Where the sirens
Cry, wail through the night, Where the neighbors' call
Late up at night, Maybe for tools, or food, or an ambulance,
Maybe her boyfriend beat her, or a can of burning mace,
Went into a mother and baby's eye, this is the place,
Where teens have children, much too young yet,
Say they can handle it, the rate is very high,
More here than the rest of this place,
This is not my home...

Home is the place, where the rain smells of life,
Soil strong and fertile, the grass is greener there,
It rains often, everything is green, The rain smells,
Life, it says, Life, Live here, be here, smell here,
Even the wind chimes, Live.. Alive.. I'm Alive...

Home is the place, where everything is,
The scenes, the indies, the chai lattes,
You need just look, you'll find a place for you,
Offbeat, comely little shops beckon along Alberta,
The bus will slide in outside, saying, Alive.. Alive...
Just look, and you will find, this little place that is,
Alive....