There was no one at home – no one at all – no one to come near
No one to call me dear, or to say my name. Was life becoming in vain?
Or was there hope? Any chance at all that someone would call? But
What would be the point if no one was at home? Was that because
they had all run away, hoping to be back some sunny day? But what-
ever life would hold the truth would never be told till the day we got
old. And that, my friend, could leave us cold.