HOME | DD

Description
Within the earth is where I make my home.
My claws move earth as I craft my tunnels.
Endlessly I move, expanding, digging.
Never can we rest so long my people grow.
I bite the rocks and cleave the dirt, a constant march.
As I burrow ever onward, building a home from holes.

It is my solemn duty, to maintain the winding holes,
to seek out new, fertile caverns, for my people to call home.
Through the hard, uncaring earth I carve out my march.
Forcing planet’s flesh aside to carve out my tunnels.
And yet, as my claws rake away the soil, thoughts begin to grow
What is this home for which I carve? Why am I forever digging?

Since I was born, I’ve known only I must keep digging.
But in that mission, what is its purpose? In my memory there are holes.
And as I dig, my claws burrow more slowly, my doubts grow.
Just what is this place referred to as my home?
What lies behind, miles away? Where begin these ancient tunnels?
What is there at the beginning? What I am carried from by my march?

For the first time in my life, I stay my claws, I cease my march.
I look back, and not ahead, my tired arms no longer digging.
I see only blackness, too far for eyes to reach, deep within the tunnels.
I do not know what lies beyond the dark, on the other end of these holes.
I want to find this place I’ve left behind. I want to see my home.
Just the thought of it makes my heart begin to grow.

So I crawl my way back, first slowly, then my steps grow
Faster, faster, a fevered, desperate march.
I must see it now, I cannot live without finding my home.
I need to know just why I am here. what gives purpose to my digging?
Never noticed before was this emptiness in my heart, now full of holes.
I see now, I’ve wandered lost within these tunnels.

Once I’ve seen it, it will be all I need. And then I can return to my tunnels.
But until then, I cannot continue, I cannot let my pathway grow.
Of course, it’s been a long time since I’ve ventured down these holes.
Something I never once gave thought to in my obedient march.
There may be other creatures out there, some foreign beast also digging.
Will I meet my end before I make it? What out there may call my tunnel home?

Back into the holes I go, to take up another march
Down into the tunnels dug long ago to see from where they first began to grow.
Into my past, my origin, I must go digging even if I never make it home.

Description
Within the earth is where I make my home.
My claws move earth as I craft my tunnels.
Endlessly I move, expanding, digging.
Never can we rest so long my people grow.
I bite the rocks and cleave the dirt, a constant march.
As I burrow ever onward, building a home from holes.

It is my solemn duty, to maintain the winding holes,
to seek out new, fertile caverns, for my people to call home.
Through the hard, uncaring earth I carve out my march.
Forcing planet’s flesh aside to carve out my tunnels.
And yet, as my claws rake away the soil, thoughts begin to grow
What is this home for which I carve? Why am I forever digging?

Since I was born, I’ve known only I must keep digging.
But in that mission, what is its purpose? In my memory there are holes.
And as I dig, my claws burrow more slowly, my doubts grow.
Just what is this place referred to as my home?
What lies behind, miles away? Where begin these ancient tunnels?
What is there at the beginning? What I am carried from by my march?

For the first time in my life, I stay my claws, I cease my march.
I look back, and not ahead, my tired arms no longer digging.
I see only blackness, too far for eyes to reach, deep within the tunnels.
I do not know what lies beyond the dark, on the other end of these holes.
I want to find this place I’ve left behind. I want to see my home.
Just the thought of it makes my heart begin to grow.

So I crawl my way back, first slowly, then my steps grow
Faster, faster, a fevered, desperate march.
I must see it now, I cannot live without finding my home.
I need to know just why I am here. what gives purpose to my digging?
Never noticed before was this emptiness in my heart, now full of holes.
I see now, I’ve wandered lost within these tunnels.

Once I’ve seen it, it will be all I need. And then I can return to my tunnels.
But until then, I cannot continue, I cannot let my pathway grow.
Of course, it’s been a long time since I’ve ventured down these holes.
Something I never once gave thought to in my obedient march.
There may be other creatures out there, some foreign beast also digging.
Will I meet my end before I make it? What out there may call my tunnel home?

Back into the holes I go, to take up another march
Down into the tunnels dug long ago to see from where they first began to grow.
Into my past, my origin, I must go digging even if I never make it home.