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Go on songwriter, tell them of your love, life and glory. |
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Share with them all you've dealt in every single story. |
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You look for inspiration liva lost little boy; |
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Under every tree and stone you find a lost piece of joy. |
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Piecing back together a puzzle of forever; |
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It's taking pride, before you die, at wherever you come home to. |
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The quickest way home is paved in gold. |
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The air around you is warm; |
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Or so I'm told or so I am told. |
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You're still well in my book. |
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All those words you write and every song that's broken. |
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All those songs sung strong and those songs without words are now spoken. |
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You are still well, put your worries aside. |
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Where are you going? |
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What city, country or state? |
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California? Carolina? Or wherever I am taken by fate? |
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You'll find out what you need right at home with the love. |
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Not in the sand, the sun, at the beach or the sea; |
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But on the Detroit River right at home with the love. |
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The quickest way home is paved in gold. |
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The air around you is warm; |
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Or so I'm told or so I am told. |
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You're still well in my book. |
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All those words you write and every song that's broken. |
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All those songs sung strong and those songs without words are now spoken |
