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 it’s 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.