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Coming Home At Last
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About the reality of war through the eyes of a young soldier thinking back to his home.
pop rock folk country christmas chris paul bouzouki frettedfriends
Artist picture
Difficult to classify. Possibly folk, country, rock, pop...who knows?
Tobe A. Richards: Vocals, guitar, keyboards, mandolin, bass, bouzouki, cittern, cuatro, percussion etc. Chris Richards; Vocals Guests: Paul S. Baker: Vocals, keyboards, guitar, bass, autoharp, percussion etc.
Song Info
Genre
Rock • Classic Rock
Charts
#23,589 today Peak #389
#1,913 in subgenre Peak #59
Author
Music & Lyrics: Tobe A. Richards
Rights
Transongs 2006
Uploaded
April 09, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 6.1 MB • 128 kbps • 6:40
Story behind the song
The Coming Home At Last reference in the title, carries a bitter twist in the song's conclusion, reflecting the harsh reality of war. In this case, a young man thinks back to more comforting times and his early life growing up among less brutal conditions. He reflects on the art, literature and scenery he remembers from the home that seems so far away. He returns home, but as just another statistic, in a coffin draped with the flag.
Lyrics
Weather-vane, turning in the wind Pointing to the south, take me home again Picket fence did ya call my name? Covered with the snow, battered by the rain Sweet magnolia, growing by the porch Scent the summer night, do you still hold a torch? Oh cicada, captured by your song Fill the empty night, till my fear has gone Grandma Moses and the ghost of Betsy Ross Unfurl the flag, let fifty fly and us what we've lost Oleander are you just like me? Planted in the yard, but wanting to be free Bougainvilia and bringin' in the corn Hear the sprinklers dancing on the Sunday morning lawn Spun-glass windchimes, fresh baked apple pie Borne upon the breeze, will ya tell me why? Days of wonder through a child's eyes Someone's waving in the summer of goodbyes Hail John Steinbeck and the ghost of Ezra Pound Will the metre of your words fall on stoney ground? Norman Rockwell do your pictures stand As a slice of what once was in every corner of the land? Mickey Mantle, face upon the card Stole a home run in the corner of our yard Paperchase and fishin' in the stream Now something's chasin' me, oh what these eyes have seen Rolling thunder rattling the glass Battens on the windows, 'til the storm has passed Holden Caulfield, Huckleberry Finn A journey through the pages, A road trip through their skin From the spire above, to the mark between America, only god knows where you've been A romance of the river, a Catcher in the Rye Final chapter, written on a lie Guard of honour, flag upon the mast Mom and daddy, I'm coming home at last
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