Wohnen from BBougainvillea (Album) by Woy

How long does it take you to get home?
Oh the years when it was nothing but a Frisbee throw
I always assumed I’d left the warmth of the open doors, years ago
Oh the assumption it, was a formalised shape; four wall a roof and some windows to break
Ask a young little boy he’ll say something reasonably the same like; where my toys are safe
I asked my old man, how long did it take him? Can he hold it or is it something that is fake within?
He answered patronising, trying not to undermine with something like; listen he boy, listen here good.
He said; ‘Picturesque is how you hold it, never mind who came up and sold it to you, your heart your home, if your home is an organ that in it’s basic form just keeps you walking, & I always remember the day my mother died of a cardiac arrest, oh the cutlery, always so shinny! She’d pick up the painting I’d put on the wall, make me rearrange the shoes around the hall, she said how do you make me feel like that, I hate when you make me feel like that, it’s all. It’s the sum of everything.’

Everyone, can live with regrets, because everyone can put up a fence, when you build your home with a nice big closet, you can come home & chuck your bones in it.

To live at peace, to remain at peace, to reside, to dwell.

• Alternative
• Electronic
• Rock
• ambient
• bogan
• Melbourne