Home
I think of home and
I think of all the rain
In this city, all the rain
In the world, in the world
All the music, all the people
All the dancing, all the love
As I prepare to come home
I think of all the music
The drum in the city
The burning of the city
The city going down
The city rising up
Love and flesh, the cold
In the summer, the blood
The trees making beauty
With grace and forever
I forget my name
I forget the names
I have been called
Many things I have been
Some of them like you
Some of them cold and lonely
Some of them dust
Some of them rising up
Magic and hurt
The bird song
Mixed with rain
The thousand feet
Hitting the ground
Hard I’ll come back
Pretty as a flower
Lonely as a steeple
Ill point to forever
And they’ll call me crazy
They always did
Yes, they love me
Now the sun rises
Yes, I’ll come home
With less and more
With heaven and hell
With the clothes I wear
With the birds
With the singing
With the drum
Tuned to a different pitch
Hungry and full
Lonely and gathered together
In the name of
