I left on a Sunday to find what seemed I'd never own.
My steps took root in the glory and its cost.
Like coal, their words they burn me, and they fuel this direction I roam.
They said that I was born to find a way to build a home.
And I was grabbing on to nothing,
I let nothing pierce my lips.
I'll taste the blood that flows when I am ready.
Commander of my footsteps, I'll be thorough to the bone.
They say I am born to find a way to build a home.
So many steps before me speak of what little that I'll leave behind.
I'll bend these knees when I am good and ready.
Please move on, my dear, ignore the picture's fading tone.
You know we were born to find a way to build a home.
Between this rock and your place I step around your holy stone,
My ears too numb to hear the words that you're pleading.
I've grown nothing, mama, from the something that I own.
Is it true you had nothing but your hands alone?
'Cause I want to learn how to build myself a home.