I live under the sky,

I consider this my home,

of course I share this with strangers by,

as I continue to roam.

 

When I was young,

lived with my brother, did I?

I no longer remember the tales he sung,

but he told me, we lived under the sky.

 

I believe my true abode,

belongs with dear brother mine,

but upon him the inheritance bestowed,

and with him I could no longer dine.

 

And so we spoke no longer,

of our days together,

he seemed to get younger,

and spent his time without his brother.

 

And people ask me,

would I like to hear,

‘Welcome home’ from he?

quite not, my dear.

 

I live under the sky,

I consider this my home,

of course I share this with strangers by,

and need no ‘Welcome home’.