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Ain’t My Home

Marc Scibilia

Ain’t My Home
I’ve been to Paris, I’ve been to Rome
Seen a little bit of the world that’s known
But it seems no matter where I go
I know this world it ain’t my home

I got keys to a house that’s on loan
Keys to a car with rust and chrome
I’ve got keys to things I’ll never own
Cause I know this world it ain’t my home

And you take me so very close
But I can’t cut down this thought that grows
That no matter where I rest or roam
I know this world it ain’t my home

And sometimes it seems a far off dream
Just inside but out of reach
I don’t know where to go but I just keep going
Cause I know this world it ain’t my home

And you take me so very close
But I can’t cut down this thought that grows
That no matter where I rest or roam
I know this world it ain’t my home

And maybe I can try to fall in love again
Find a little house with a picket fence
But you know that I, I’m a travelin’ man
To that distant country in that far off land

Oh and when my time is used and done
I will see that final settin’ sun
And I’ll leave everything I’ve ever known
And that house above it will be my home



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