Home

I walked down from the station 'cause I wanted to see,

The kind of things that you might miss from the back of a taxi,

There's just no way to tell you what these things mean to me

This is home.

The place I threw my guts up outside the old wine bar,

The junk shop on the corner where I bought my first guitar,

The grass verge by the pig flats where we sat and revved our cars,

This is home.