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