Bemuzic

A breeze stirs the grass,
wakes a memory from the past.
Roots twist and turn.
The light from a torch upon the ground.
A voice is calling me home.

Time slips and slides.
Words are jumping out of rhyme.
The record starts again.
I know every single line,
and a voice is calling me home.

Years piling up.
A dusty room, a broken clock,
books that won?t be read.
It doesn?t matter cos I know
that a voice is calling me home.
I?m Going home,
yeah I?m going home,
whoooo I?m going home.