Coming Home

They say we're off the Bar Likewise the red-pen off its ink Whilst we stand outside in a foreign land that we yield no appraisal We glamour unto to the Ode to hold the feelings No one but someone could glance through its cup We're being drawn closer from the ancestors we've been forgetting Hearing of a roar lion was like a hope for the fears in ones customs eyes Leaving off the street At night!!! Will it be cold? Said by a soul that couldn't comprehend its sadness Will there be a welcome warmth? Said by a soul that has lost respect from his lineage. While on the way 2 bird chirples there claws Fear gripped mortal with no fangs No Seer while the Hellhound was lost Smooth road got tattered and blood was a measure of a pool How long will it take to get home? No answer will be given to the infant that knows not what Homeland looks like Every soul got Drained all just in the fear to make it home but no one will do without the sacrifice of hate nor love ?? A home will never be a home