I have always been one,
Never behind doors always having fun,
Alone or with many,
Like me, all young guns.

Ready to fire
Though the consequences could be dire
Always under fire
From possessive, protective sires.

At times we realized
At others we ignored
The warnings of the old
Acting grown up and bold.

Dad said watch out!
Mum was always screamin’ out,
But we could do without,
All that steam from their spouts.

They said, ‘Home Sweet Home’
But we never understood the tone,
We wanted to be left alone,
Forever, or so, to roam.

The calls were ours,
They ran for hours,
Now look what’s left of us,
We’re tourists in our homes.