relationships

Homesick by Alice Merton – a TCK song

HOMESICK LYRICS:

I was the new kid
I was scared of dogs and the weather
Never went on a field trip
Scared I’d lose my mother and father

I was the new kid
Didn’t understand what’s going on
But I tried my best to fit in
Started putting it in a song

No I don’t get homesick
But I’m sick when I’m without you
And I don’t feel lonely
I just wanna be alone with you

And I said I’d never write a love song
Because they always end
But you caught me off guard
And I found a home again

No I don’t get homesick
No I don’t feel lonely

I was the new kid
I like to wear the same shirts again
It reminded me where I’ve been
All the places I’ve left my brothers

I was the new kid
I never understood what’s going on
And I didn’t know how to talk
So I put it in a song

No I don’t get homesick
But I’m sick when I’m without you
And I don’t feel lonely
I just wanna be alone with you

And I said I’d never write a love song
Because they always end
But you caught me off guard
And I found a home again

I don’t feel alone
I don’t feel alone
I don’t feel alone
I don’t feel alone

I was the new kid
I was scared of dogs and the weather
Never went on a fieldtrip
Scared I’d lose my mother and father

I was the new kid
Didn’t understand what’s going on
But I tried my best to fit in
Started putting it in a song

No I don’t get homesick
But I’m sick when I’m without you
And I don’t feel lonely
I just wanna be alone with you

And I said I’d never write a love song
‘Cause they always end
But you caught me off guard
And I found a home again

No I don’t get homesick
No I don’t, no I don’t, no I don’t, no I don’t
And I don’t feel lonely
I just wanna be alone with you

I don’t feel alone
I don’t feel alone
I don’t feel alone

No Roots by Alice Merton

Alice Merton’s YouTube channel

By CulTuremiKs, ago

Just A House To Me – a poem about transition

Just A House To Me

  You had spent your entire life in one home:

                   your mom’s run-down condo in sleepy Antrim, New Hampshire where you
                   grew up eating inauthentic General Tso’s chicken at Ginger House and 
                   picking up sesame bagels with cream cheese at Audrey’s 
                   on Wednesdays,

  knowing 
  everything 
  about your town, 
  your home, which step 
  in your staircase creaked, 
  the exact shape of the burn 
  mark on the left side of your fridge. 
 
                   The mahogany closet in your basement where you used to curl up at age 
                   4 to play hide-and-seek with your three sisters, the bookshelf you broke 
                   then repaired at age 10, the army green quilt you received from your 
                   grandma at age 13 that covers the twinbed in your room, in your home, in 
                   your town. 

  By the time I met you I had lived in over 25 places in 

       Korea                           England 
                      Tanzania
                      South Africa 
                      Kenya
                                       Lithuania
              Chile          U.S.A.

Some homes, some houses,

     never
     knowing 

     the houses
                 I lived 
     I was packing     unpacking,
              readjusting   new places.

                      thrill of leaving           Cockroach House,  
         bittersweet       goodbye     Mango Tree House,  
                   Jacaranda House, the comings           goings 
        formings          memories, never          feeling 
              rootedness.

     And maybe that’s why we had to end our relationship:
     I was a home to you, but you were just a house to me.

By Melanie Han, an avid traveler and a poet who was born in Korea, grew up in East Africa, and is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing in Boston. She has won awards from Boston in 100 Words and Lyric, and her poetry has appeared in several magazines and online publications, such as Fathom, Ruminate, and Among Worlds. During her free time, she can be found eating different ethnic foods or visiting new countries.

Other poems by Melanie Han
Can I Roll, Slice, Stack Memories?
Dar es Salaam Delicacies

By CulTuremiKs, ago