I think I've only told penguins about how don't feel home sometimes. Penguins and someone else, with whom I shared a song about it.
It's not that I'm sad, or upset, I'm just tired. I'm tired of picking the trash, and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and the bags and all that trash.
It isn't always upon me, only some special moments around 9, when I get to hear a word after the other, about it... about IT
I'm just so tired.
Then I go upstairs, to the living room, to the woods, or out, or to school, or to the igloos, or the burrows..
and during those moments, sometimes I get to feel home.