| I’ve got to get home there’s a garden to tend
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| There’s food on the ground and the birds have all moved back
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| Into my attic, whistling static when the young learn to fly
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| I will patch all the holes up again
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| Well, I can’t believe that my lime tree is dead
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| I thought it was sleeping, I guess it got fed up with not being fed
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| And I would be too, I keep food in my belly
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| And hope that my time isn’t soon, isn’t soon
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| And so I tried to understand what I can’t hold in my hand
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| And whatever I find, I’ll find my way back to you
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| And if you could try to find it too
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| Because this place is overgrown it’s a waxing moon
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| Home is wherever we are, if there’s love here too
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| In the back of our house there’s a trail that won’t end
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| We went walking so far that it grew back again
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| And there’s no trail at all only grass growing taller
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| Get out my machete battle with time once again
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| But I’m bound to lose because I’ll be down if time don’t win
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| I’ve got to get home there’s a garden to tend
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| All the seeds from the fruits buried and began their
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| Own family trees teach them, thank you and please
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| They spread their own roots, then watch their young fruit grow again
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| And this old trail will lead me right back to where it begins
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| And so I tried to understand what I can’t hold in my hand
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| And whatever I find, I’ll find my way back to you
|
| And if you could try to find it too
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| Because this place is overgrown, it’s a waxing moon
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| Home is wherever we are, if there’s love here too
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| I said, Home is wherever we are, if there’s love here too
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| Home is wherever we are, if there’s love here too |