I.
A dilapidated awning
Scents of morning
Rain, wet grass, and dust
II.
Every shadow looks familiar
Seen the same each time I’ve been here
[shards of] glass and rust
Chorus
Coming home
Where the old tree still stands
And the swing dances in the wind
And I remember sparkling emerald eyes –
Oh what’s become of those eyes?
III.
The old screen door squeals at me
Brings back sepia memory
Like itself
Fading, peeling paint
IV.
All is quiet, the night is deep
Some dog whimpers in its sleep
And a barrel brims with rain
Chorus
Coming home
Where the old tree still stands
And the swing dances in the wind
And I remember lips I used to kiss
Oh where are those cherry lips I miss?
Bridge
I am here
Is no one else near?
No lights in the windows
The yard dry and sere
Yes I am here
Is anyone near?
The dawn takes so long
To appear…
Chorus
Coming home
Where the old tree still stands
And the swing dances in the wind
And soon the sun will drive the night away –
But your lovely memory will stay!
