Leaving the porch light on.

I learned young how a house could feel
Like somewhere you shouldn't be,
How walls could hide a thousand things
Nobody else could see.

I could've grown up bitter,
Could've shut the whole world out.
Instead I became the woman
That little girl once needed around.



I've fed fifty at my table,
Still made room for one more chair.
Maybe I know what lonely means—
So I won't leave you there.



I leave the porch light on,
If you're lost, you know the way.
If you're hungry, there's a chair,
I'll find another plate.

Life gave me every reason
To turn my whole heart cold...

But I built a bigger table
And left the porch light on.


I didn't become gentle
'Cause life was gentle to me.

I became gentle
'cause I know what cruel can be.

Maybe that's my victory—

Not that I survived it...

I never became it.