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I gotta get home there's a garden to tend,
There's fruit on the ground and the birds have all moved back into my attic,
Whistle and static,
When the young learn to fly I will patch all the holes up again,
I can't believe that my lime tree is dead,
I thought it was sleeping I guess I got fed up, with not being fed,
And I'm being too,
I keep food in my belly and hope that my time isn't soon,
So I try to understand, what I
can't hold in my hand, and where ever we are,
Home is there too,
And if you can try to find it to, cause this
place is overgrowing to wax and gloom,
Home is where ever we are if there's nothing to,
In the back of our house, there's a trail that wonât end,
We been walking so far that it grew back in
But there's no trail when the gras growing taller
get around my machete, and battle with time once again,
But I'm bound to lose cause Iâll be damned if time donât win
I gotta get home there's a garden to tend,
All the seeds from the fruit buried and begin
their old family trees,
teach them thank you and pleases,
they spread there own roots,
then watch the young fruit grow again,
And this old trail will lead me right back to where it begins,
So I try to understand, what I
can't hold in my hand, and
whatever I find I'll find may way back to you,
And if you can try to find it to, cause this
place is overgrowing to wax and gloom,
Home is where ever we are if there's nothing to,
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