Sound of steps fills the room
And nothing here has changed.
cradle or a tomb?
To me it sounds the same.
When dusty shelves tell more,
Than millions of words.
It aches and brings relief 
You' re home.

Memories like little drops of rain,
Touch and touch me again.
It freezes to the bone,
I am returning home, I am returning home.
Here past alive again,
It holds me, it holds me.
Like call from distant lands,
It haunts me, it haunts me.

It's like those years have not ever passed.
This place holds something that's called past.
Sound of steps fills the room
And nothing here has changed.
cradle or a tomb?
To me it sounds the same.