The walls will change
And the rooms and the doors,
Yes, things may look different
But it will be as before.
Walls are just walls.
A house isn’t a home when you take it apart
When it’s empty of everything
It’s missing its heart.
When we pack up the books, the hand prints and frames
You see – it’s a shell, it’s just not the same.
What matters is us.
We make a home – one, two, three, four
And with all of our things there it will be as before.
(We’ll paint it with laughter from ceiling to floor).
We’ll hang up our memories on the new hooks
We’ll sing the same songs, we’ll read the same books.
Yes, you’ll have a new room but you’ll fill it with you
A window’s a window; it just has a new view.
The floor will still be covered with trains
And your map will still have a bull over Spain.
The animals will still enjoy roaming the floor
It will be different and the same as before.
We’ll call this house home
And we’ll fill it with love.
And just so you know, wherever is there
My arms will be open
My lap always your chair.