When you look at the home you knew,

you remember the happy memories that help you grew.

Like the old oak you thought was a witch buried in the ground.

You look at the dug up drit were you dug a mound,

you see your old toy colecting dust. Then you see the

slide that you broke or bust.

You look at you room full of dust reflecting the moon.

And your old bed cloths still on the floor, like the desert

night you see such a sight as you left in a hurry like a kite.

The home you knew is destroyed from in and out

that you know that there is nothing you can do.

"Goodbye old freind." You say once again and

left the ruins of the only home you knew.