This house I hate is not my home.
The rooms I roam are not my own.
The room which I lay in is not right
So I lay awake and I cry at night.
The walls are white, the floors are cold
I wish everything was peeled and old.
I want the walls to look lived in,
I want the floors to look caved in.
I want to live on the ground floor,
I want to have a closing door.
Every place is dismal and small
Nothing belongs to me at all.