ROLLING HOME

Truth with all of its far out schemes

Lets time decide what it should mean

It’s not the time but just the dream that dies.

And sometimes when the room is still

Time with so much truth to kill

Leaves you by the windowsill to tired

 

Without a wing, To take you high

Without a dream, To tell you why

 

Now I just want to keep my name

Not bother anybody’s game

Without ideas of gold or fame

Or insane heights

 

I don’t want a lot of money

I don’t need a playboy bunny

Just a love to call me honey

Late at night

 

In my arms, By my side

In my arms, Late at night

 

CHORUS

But, I don’t know, I ain’t been told

Everybody wants a hand to hold

They’re so afraid of growing old

So scared of dying so unknown and so alone

Rolling home

 

There’s nothing big I want to prove

No mountains that I need to move

Or even claim what’s right or true for you

My sites, my songs are slightly charred

You might think they’ve missed their mark

But things are only what they are and, nothing new

 

But for me, I think they’ll do,

But for me, I think they’ll do,

 

Now I can see a king and queen

A beggar falling at my feet

They all must see the same sad dreams at night

The times when no one was around

The empty hours when I felt down

And paint the pictures of the sound now turned to stone

 

What to do, and what’s been done

You can try, but you can’t run,

CHORUS