I once thought
That your arms were my home.
That when I returned
All would be good.
I once thought
That your heart was my home.
That when I sheltered
All would be fine.
I once thought
That your soul was my home.
That when I sought refuge
All would be safe.
Now I know
That your arms, heart, and soul
Are not an asylum,
But the storm I've been escaping
When I needed a home.