slow birds, no breeze

Iron hearts, rustin' streams

Long march, small crimes

soft words whisper 

Its time to come home

your eyes

to bring back your charms

to sit real still

in my arms

clocks tick, trees pound

lions roar on empty streets

long lists in black and white

red words that read like

the forth of july

you're home, look at me,

you're home, uh huh,

you're home

in my arms