He asked me where my home was
And it chilled me to the bone
For, if home is where the heart is
I will always be alone
In a world that has no shelter 
But old newspapers and stone
My heart is in the graveyard
Where my love lies cold and prone
And in the storm cloud's bosom 
Where Cupid's skills are honed
He would have hit the bulls-eye
If the chill wind hadn't blown
If I could rig the game of love
By selling everything I own
I'd finally find where I belong
And fall where my fruit was thrown
If Adam, though, should find me
Bite, and know all to be known
I would be a rotten fruit
On a lusty, lonely throne
Do you hear the sirens calling
In a melancholy tone?
They're the women who kill men
With a single pretty moan
So will I be a spinner
An old maid or a crone?
Who lives in isolation
In gardens where my youth was sown
I hear the songbirds calling
Spinning in the paths they've flown
They flutter like my lover's hands
Who's sins I can't atone 
He asked me where my home was 
But he was only mine on loan
And he is where my heart is
So he will always be my home.