Gustavo Santaolalla
This House Is...
I ripped out the kitchen, I repainted the hall
But nothing made any difference at all
This house— This house is—
I don't know what it is
I assembled some furniture, I resembled some furniture
But following instructions only leads to self-destruction
This house is—
I don't know what it is
Among of it, an early grave
A poor investment, such a big mistake
This house— Oh, this house is—
I don't know what it is
But if you're in the market for a three-story monstrosity
This could be your cup of tea, your ideal property
This house— Oh, this house is—
I don't know what it is
Sunshine pours through a windowpane
Highlighting the fact that I'm on my own again
A home is a place love and life can mix
A house is nothing, nothing
But a collection of bricks
This house is nothing but a collection of bricks
Nothing, nothing
Nothing but a big collection of bricks
Tear this house down, build something else
Somewhere, someplace you could be yourself
Not this place you pour your life into
Just to watch it leak away, hey, hey
What's the difference between a house and a home?
A home is a place you never feel alone
But a house, oh, a house is
Just a collection of bricks
Sunshine still pours through my windowpane
Highlighting the fact I'm on my own again
A home is a place love and life can mix
A house is nothing, nothing
But a collection of bricks
Nothing but a big collection of bricks
One, two, three, four, five, six
Come look at my massive collection
Of bricks
Oh, nothing
Nothing but a big collection of bricks
I said, there's nothing, nothing
Nothing but a big collection of bricks, ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh
Yeah, yeah
Nothing but a big collection of bricks