My livingroom is a living room
It's almost like a forest
Located in the outskirts 
living its own life
far from what ever is civilized

The wilderness starts with a meadow 
Surrounded by cliff shelves
where book trees grow
The wind tickles the branshes
but never to play as implied

The same wind streaks thru the meadow
Where the mice run like crazy
and cover their ears
A spell breaks through the air
the  invoice will whisper 'til dawn

She whispers until they fall from fatigue
those deranged brutes of the wild
A deep sleep and whacky dreams
an awakening at the hour of the wolf

Thats when the spirits go crazy
or ghosts if you do believe in such
The wild creatures don't, still
it keeps them awake
Me, myself, I listen too much

I packed my things in my mother's purse
I just chose those things that I love
It all fitted in that small, small bag
I opened the door and left