Did you ever stop and think where we spend our time?
When we go to bed at night to lay and close our eyes.
It may not be a real big place or even grandiose
Yet, still I drift way back in time to think of all disposed.
Those of the past called home their caves
A hole carved from the earth
Where they played and found repose from a hard day's work.
It's not so different from the past, you see, we all have caves
It may not be a rock formed shape or deeply etched from clay
Maybe itís a one room pad, a skyscraper building's loft
Whatever you may say it is one should never scoff.
For where we need to lay our heads
The cave is called our house.