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Goin' Home
On the hill where Custer was,
Making his last stand,
With the Indians all around,
And his gun in his hand.
Such a wind was blowing that day,
Through the battleground,
I could feel it in my hair,
As I turned towards downtown.
Weaving through the buildings,
Cutting though the streets,
Slicing through the culture,
Piling on the weeks.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home.
Dropping in on you my friend,
Is just like old times,
Said the fool who signed the paper,
To assorted slimes.
It's hard to get blood from a stone
But for you I'll give it a try,
To provide your accomodations,
And leave you satisfied.
You'd think it was easy,
To give your life away,
To not have to live up to,
The promises you made.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home.
Elusively she cut the phone,
Moved from cell to cell,
Really looking remarkable,
And obviously doing well.
She made a turn on a wooden bridge,
Into the battleground,
With a thousand warriors on the ridge,
She tried to turn her radio down.
Battle drums were pounding,
All around her car,
She saw her clothes were changing,
Into sky and stars.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home.
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Going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Into sky and stars.
She saw her clothes were changing,
All around her car,
Battle drums were pounding,
She tried to turn her radio down.
With a thousand warriors on the ridge,
Into the battleground,
She made a turn on a wooden bridge,
And obviously doing well.
Really looking remarkable,
Moved from cell to cell,
Elusively she cut the phone,
Going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
The promises you made.
To not have to live up to,
To give your life away,
You'd think it was easy,
And leave you satisfied.
To provide your accomodations,
But for you I'll give it a try,
It's hard to get blood from a stone
To assorted slimes.
Said the fool who signed the paper,
Is just like old times,
Dropping in on you my friend,
Going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Going home, I'm going home.
Piling on the weeks.
Slicing through the culture,
Cutting though the streets,
Weaving through the buildings,
As I turned towards downtown.
I could feel it in my hair,
Through the battleground,
Such a wind was blowing that day,
And his gun in his hand.
With the Indians all around,
Making his last stand,
On the hill where Custer was,
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| GGoin' HHome |
| oin' ome |
| oGin' oHme |
| hoin' jome |
| hGoin' jHome |
| Ghoin' Hjome |
| yoin' uome |
| yGoin' uHome |
| Gyoin' Huome |
| boin' nome |
| bGoin' nHome |
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| Gboin' Hnome |
| voin' bome |
| vGoin' bHome |
| Gvoin' Hbome |
| foin' gome |
| fGoin' gHome |
| Gfoin' Hgome |
| toin' yome |
| tGoin' yHome |
| Gtoin' Hyome |
| Gooin' Hoome |
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| Gin' Hme |
| Gion' Hmoe |
| Gkin' Hkme |
| Gkoin' Hkome |
| Gokin' Hokme |
| G9in' H9me |
| G9oin' H9ome |
| Go9in' Ho9me |
| G0in' H0me |
| G0oin' H0ome |
| Go0in' Ho0me |
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| Glin' Hlme |
| Gloin' Hlome |
| Golin' Holme |
| Giin' Hime |
| Gioin' Hiome |
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