Comin' Home
We're two points collapsing, supercharged from the storm.
Sun drenched in our faces, too deformed.
Bliss with intent to see us peeling locust skins from the locust tree.
Hang on to these places she says to me.
Clearly in this afternoon, clearly we will have to turn and come home soon.
She fell into me a point collapsing with her lovely face in the snow.
The mission could be corrupted, and we wouldn't know.
(And we wouldn't know.)
My baby reaches for the sound, I've got my feet against the ground.
My baby reaches for the sound, I'll take you anywhere you know.
Loving me more as you see us peeling locust skins from the locust trees.
Hang on to the faces she screams to me.
Too clearly in this afternoon,
clearly we will have to turn and come home soon.
Clearly in this afternoon,
and clearly we will have to turn and come home soon.
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