Do tell, my friend
Where our home lies.
Is it in the collective or in a solitary mind?
Where is it now?
In a forgotten cave,
Or on land forbidden to all
But misery and Spite?
Does the Lord of Fellowship thrive,
Or does he have a melancholy pride?
There, is Misery his Queen?
And is Faith but a prisoner to abstract fiends
Why do we sing of Hope's decay?
Do we not belong anywhere?
A place by a hearth and a mother's love?
Are we as blind as we are deaf?
Here, There, I am welcome everywhere.
'Tis not my origin that defines me
But the hearts and minds of the throbbing.
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