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I've got to get home there's a garden to tend. |
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There's fruit on the ground and the birds have all moved back |
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Into my attic with whistling static |
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When the young learn to fly 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. |
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I need food in my belly and hope that my time isn't soon. |
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And so I'll try to understand what I can't hold in my hands |
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And wherever we are home is there too. |
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And if you could try to find it too 'cause this place is overgrowing |
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to whacks and gloom |
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Home is wherever we are if there's nothing too. |
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In the back of house is trail that won't end. |
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We've been walking so far that it grew back in |
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There's no trail at all only grass growing tall |
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And I'll get out my machete and battle with time once again, |
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But I'm bound to lose 'cause I'll be damned if time don't win. |
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I got to get home there's a garden to tend |
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All the seeds from the fruit bear Eden |
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Begin their own family trees, teach them thank you and please |
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As they spread their own roots then watch the 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'll try 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 'cause this place is overgrowing |
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to whacks and gloom. |
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Home is wherever we are if there's nothing too |
