I feel the need to always change my face, and never  do I get tired enough of it,
I still look in the mirror and see to much of it,
Onto change after another,
Seventeen years and I ain't seen enough of it,
To say any of it stays long enough to feel at home,
I hate it, I don't remember enough of my life to really define it,
Always even with my best company I felt alone,
Growing up, changing like autumn seasons, no need to refine it,
This times four more,
And the seasons just keep on changing,
I don't think I have a definition,
I don't think I have,
I don't think I want,
I'm not sure I'll ever have a definition of home.