There's quite no place like home.
A strict ambiance patrolled by the eye of heaven,
But with gentle hands like the ocean caresses the shore
Covering it's inner beauty like ladies heavy linen.
As I step out from the choking engine smoke,
Onto the land of my paradise home.
Instead of singing birds and gossiping trees,
Screaming ladies in veils carrying fruit baskets and and wine bowls.
They are attached tall buildings and busy black streets,
Blinding lights and deafening motor horns.
Girls running half naked in little tight skirts,
A place so different from where I was born.
Home is where the heart is,
So I guess I carry home where my love is.
