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Someone calls this place "home"
When they return from being far away
From the twisting, winding roads
And the lights that flash at night.
The same lights that reflect over the great lake,
The lights that bring the ships to sleep,
Those lights are guiding someone home.
The winding roads that scale the hill,
The mountain, the canyon, what have you...
Cars zip by and twist and turn,
Taking their drivers back home.
As the night sky appears and the stars arrive,
People forget to look out their windows
At the great city beneath them.
Ogle for a moment.
Take it all in.
This is your home, you are here every day,
But what of the life below?