Why should we all be expected to want a perfect house?
When there are many in this world with nothing over their head.
What’s so wrong with sharing your home with a mouse?
We should appreciate the place in which we rest our head.

So what if I don’t always use a saucer with my cup?
So what if my choice of fridge is one of the smaller sizes?
Why should we spend our time keeping appearances up?
Just who is the judge that will be handing out the prizes?

I have made a choice about the colour of the carpet in the lounge.
And my choice was to leave it be and to worry about other things.
I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t care what chairs I scrounge
To let my friends come over and sit down to talk about their feelings.

The way I want to feather my nest is very personal to me.
Small but comfortable. Simple not sumptuous.
Just enough of everything to support my living comfortably.
Warm and welcoming. Tidy but not virtuous.

Some things are worth more that losing a bit of capital.
It’s my choice to make if I want to drift back a little in the race.
It has never been my ambition that I should have it all.
So I ask you not to apply your own expectation to my place.

There’s more to life than money, we don’t have to play the game.
Let the power of the human spirit free us from the grip
Of an ever growing over hyped cost of housing, it’s us to blame.
Why should its value rise when over half of it is in a skip?

I want it
Just the way I want it.
To share with those I want to.
Just a little place of mine.
Just a place to call my own.
Just a home.