Closer To My Home

c. Marty Attridge 1984

 

Lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling.

Wondering why I ever headed south.

The letter that you wrote lying on my night table.

I must've read it twenty times by now.

 

And every time I do it don't sound right.

I know you're coming in on the next flight.

Keeps me wishing, keeps me hoping

I was closer to my home.

 

Ten years on the Island, Two years up the coast

It's a laugh now to think I could ever be free.

Now, here you come haunting, as I'm sharing my new bed.

Why can't you just leave me?

 

I fumble for the light but it takes too long.

And by the time I do the feeling's gone.

Keeps me wishing, keeps me hoping

I was closer to my home.

 

Yes, I remember the Island.

Summer love songs, sweat and beer.

I can still see you smiling

As I watched you disappear.

 

Lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling.

Wondering why I ever headed south.

The letter that you wrote lying on my night table.

I must've read it thirty times by now.

 

And every time I do it don't sound right.

You walking off that plane back into my life.

Keeps me wishing, keeps me hoping

I was closer to my home, closer to my home.