Darling, who told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whenever your heart feel at ease and be at peace,
Home is whenever you go to places and in love with the streets,
Home is whenever you listen to the music and jam to its rhythm.
This two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place that shouldn't be burden off your shoulders,
is a place that should you reminisce in joy instead of grief,
is a place that should be a sanctuary rather than asylum.
Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whose eyes were jet black with a heartbeat,
Home is whose smirks feel like summer in winter days,
Home is whose touch melts away even the toughest iceberg.
"Well", you said, "this two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place where I hear more yelling than laughter,
is a place where my dreams died and buried deep,
is a place where I used to shamelessly call as home".