Coming Home
I wonder where my friend has goneI wonder where it all went wrongWas there something that I should have known?I looked for him in AmsterdamI cried for him in BirminghamWondered if he’s ever coming home
Coming home, coming homeStanding underneath the skyWith nothing of my ownI’m here picking flowersBut all my seeds are left unsownBetter off if he was coming homeBetter off if he was coming home
Had a man, tall and fineI left him by an old road signTold him I was off to MexicoWith my feet on the trackAnd your shadow on my backWandered if I’m ever coming home
Coming home, coming homeStanding underneath the skyWith nothing of my ownI’m here picking flowersBut all my seeds are left unsownBetter off if he was coming homeBetter off if he was coming homeBetter off if he was coming home
Coming home, coming homeStanding underneath the skyWith nothing of my ownI’m here picking flowersBut all my seeds are left unsownBetter off if he was coming homeBetter off if he was coming homeBetter off if he was coming homeBetter off if he was coming home