| With sleepy eyes we made our way across
|
| Where friendship’s found friendship is often lost
|
| With valiant wishes of becoming ends
|
| But there will be no such with you my friend
|
| I’m going home, going home
|
| To be where my water meets my stones
|
| I’m going home, going home
|
| The social traveller journeys on his own
|
| Darkness you can’t see where you’re going now
|
| There never was light in your eyes some how
|
| Who’s to blame when something living is dead?
|
| So many words should have stayed in your head
|
| So many thoughts should not have left your bed
|
| I’m going home, going home
|
| To tend to the lover and the dog
|
| I’m going home, going home
|
| He who yearns to age must firstly grow
|
| That which is your prime you do not know
|
| Boy boy boy boy
|
| I’m going home, going home
|
| To drink from the chalis of another
|
| I’m going home, going home
|
| To mount and feed and groom and ride alone
|
| For he who is myself I do not know |