I still sit on the same white porch   Down the street   Just to the right of the bed shades by the window   In my seat the same three pair of shoes    I never worn before sit by the door    Its funny I sit here all alone      I remember a time when this house was made of gold and hopes and dreams   I loved every minute every second and every thought of what it could be   Took four to pay only three two afford, just barely    Its funny I live here all alone      The lights still turn on    The air still blows both hot and cold    The waters still running    All the neighbors still think I’m 12 years old   I’m working on a fiction   So where the hell could all of my friends be   I have no convictions just seven years so I’m able to buy again