You’re by yourself
in that lonesome house
on top of the mountain
looking over the sea.

You’re talking to yourself
on the balcony.
Breathe in the ocean.
Tune into the chirping coqui.

Well there’s nothing you can say
To make your voices go away
At least you don’t feel nothing after all.

Your father’s passed.
It’s a scary thought
to know that everyone you love
will be dead and gone.

But your mother’s here.
Your sister’s here.
You’ll watch her children grow up
after all these years

There’s nothing to be said
for the breakfast and the bed.
It’s nice to know you have someone after all.
At least you know that you’re someone after all.

Your father built that house from the ground.
His hands callused by brick and tile.
You stayed there for twenty years with no sound
of anyone staying for awhile.

Your father used to beat you with a belt.
His knuckles callused and wrapped in leather.
Your sister’s body was the only armor you held.
Her soft face helped you keep it together.

Did you have anything to say
the day he passed away?
At least you know that he stayed here through it all.

Which memory will you pick?
The leather or the brick?
In the end, he still loved you after all.

Whenever you feel alone,
just remember whose hands built this home.
Your mother loves you, I hope you know
Your sister loves you, I hope you know it’s so.

At least you know you have someone after all
At least you know that we’ll stay here through it all.
At least you know that I’ve been here for it all.

I am the nephew. I have been here forever telling
This is your story, all eternal, forever lasting (We will rebuild you)
I will tell it. I will tell it. I will tell it.
And at the end I will say,

“So long, Tio Harold. You have done just fine
as a man, an uncle, un hijo. Don’t you pay no mind
to the voices in your head. There is no more to be said
for the ways that you’re my hero. I’ll see you home in time.”