In the eyes of the world, it was just a shack,
the little house with a purple door.
He said, “Mama, when are we going back?”
They had left their home by the railroad track
about a year before.
In the eyes of the world it was just a shack.
His mother was suddenly taken aback
by the little boy about four.
He said, “Mama, when are we going back?”
They had bought a big house with a lot of jack,
but that purple door house he adored.
In the eyes of the world it was just a shack,
but to him, it was a home without lack,
where they lived by the track before.
He said, “Mama, when are we going back?”
He started to pack his little backpack
to return to his home, oh so poor.
In the eyes of the world it was just a shack;
he said, “Mama, when are we going back?”
