| I wonder where my friend has gone
|
| I wonder where it all went wrong
|
| Was there something that I should have known?
|
| I looked for him in Amsterdam
|
| I cried for him in Birmingham
|
| Wondered if he’s ever coming home
|
| Coming home, coming home
|
| Standing underneath the sky
|
| With nothing of my own
|
| I’m here picking flowers
|
| But all my seeds are left unsown
|
| Better off if he was coming home
|
| Better off if he was coming home
|
| Had a man, tall and fine
|
| I left him by an old road sign
|
| Told him I was off to Mexico
|
| With my feet on the track
|
| And your shadow on my back
|
| Wondered if I’m ever coming home
|
| Coming home, coming home
|
| Standing underneath the sky
|
| With nothing of my own
|
| I’m here picking flowers
|
| But all my seeds are left unsown
|
| Better off if he was coming home
|
| Better off if he was coming home
|
| Better off if he was coming home
|
| Coming home, coming home
|
| Standing underneath the sky
|
| With nothing of my own
|
| I’m here picking flowers
|
| But all my seeds are left unsown
|
| Better off if he was coming home
|
| Better off if he was coming home
|
| Better off if he was coming home |