The things here aren't nice,
but they suffice.
The carpets may be stained with beer,
but memories enmeshed are dear.
Though the jokes here may be crude,
I'd rather laugh than brood.
For hearty is the food
and balmy is the mood.
And wrapped up in this fuzzy spread,
I've a place to lay my head.
Machine guns purring next to me
from the warm-glowing TV
Shrunken now, my duties wane.
A mystic soundtrack strokes my brain.
My eyes begin to heavy-blink.
This is home, I think.