Copyright © Timberline Tales™ Verse 1 · · ── ·𖥸· ── ·· This window wears a film of aged neglect, A memory I can't quite resurrect. Four walls and a chimney stack, a mortgage and a lease But the lock on the front door just bought me temporary peace Yeah, I paid the electric bill, and I cut the patch of green But I'm standing in this address, and it feels empty and mean. Chorus · · ── ·𖥸· ── ·· 'Cause not every house is a home, dear, no, you gotta understand A house is built of brick and stone, a map drawn on the land But a home ain't a blueprint, a deed signed in black ink It's the shelter you find in the places where your weary soul can think It's a feeling you carry with you, a light when the world goes dark So not every house is a home, and not every home's a house, that's the mark. Verse 2 · · ── ·𖥸· ── ·· I knew a traveler with a knapsack full of years He slept beneath the pine trees, wiped away his silent tears Said, "My kitchen is a campfire, my roof is the open sky And the rhythm of the train track is my evening lullaby." He didn't have a mailbox, no bills coming due But he said he was never lonely, 'cause his home was the view. Chorus · · ── ·𖥸· ── ·· 'Cause not every house is a home, dear, no, you gotta understand A house is built of brick and stone, a map drawn on the land But a home ain't a blueprint, a deed signed in black ink It's the shelter you find in the places where your weary soul can think It's a feeling you carry with you, a light when the world goes dark So not every house is a home, and not every home's a house, that's the mark. Bridge · · ── ·𖥸· ── ·· Maybe it's the smell of coffee on a Monday mornin' bright Maybe it's the sound of a loved one saying, "Everything's alright." Maybe it's a worn-out flannel or a dog asleep beside It's the place where the real you can finally drop your pride. Yeah, you can build up all the walls, but you can't force the feelin' in 'Cause a house is just the structure, but a home is where life begins. Outro · · ── ·𖥸· ── ·· So I'll pack up my few belongings, leave this hollow shell behind Gonna search for that true shelter, the kind you build in your mind. I'll find my home in a handshake, or the curve of a mountain trail Where the spirit finally settles, and the lonely wind can sail. Not every house... is a home... And not every home's a house... No...
