The Home of your arms

I don't know where it comes from
this feeling, that I have to fight
they push and pull, on and on
because why should I be right?

My choices are my own now
my life is a scrapbook to fill
and yet hands, not my own
turn pages at will.

They'll lose me, you know
they all will
because I wont give this up
this feeling of belonging
in the home of your arms that you've built.

The world can burn away
to ashes and dust in the sky
I'll never want for anything more
nor be tainted by guilt
so long as I can stay here
in the home of your arms that you've built.