when i sit down and try to remember

what my home is like

i seem to be drifting in water

no land in sight

all my friends become nothing but names

in my old adress book

oh yes, there was that funny little girl

her love i took



where is the place i do belong

that little spot where i was born

where is the garden in my mind

it turns to stone



what do i know ?



when i walk the streets of London

i see a face i know

but i knew it on a different body

a long time ago

a back yard or a house on the corner

bring back a time

where i could say without a doubt

that this place is mine