Coming home, where ever it may be, Coming home, where love waits for me, Coming home, where dishes need to be done, Coming home, where life is such fun. dreaded arrivals and international gates... who waits for me, who waits for me, While i transport profits, hidden in jean pockets, who waits for me, who waits for me? It's a simple kind of livin' best kept for the dead - where the questions about purpose never even enter into their heads so I'll keep on ramblin' 'till i find me a good home, like any other lost dog, i'd be happy with a bone. and if you scratch my belly, we might fall in love - but all lost dogs must wander passed on from their god above. let the gate stay open, we ain't got cows anyhow - and I won't get into bed while there's still excitement about...
screaming at low volumes
