they say you can’t go home again
somebody said that, I don’t remember who
some guy in a black hoodie
calling from some dirty pay phone in the dark
if you never had a home you ain’t got one to go back to
been on my own since I’ve been on my own
after being swatted around like a shuttlecock
in the world championship matches
from Jakarta to Glasgow to Copenhagen
except nothin’ that exotic
livin’ out of a rucksack jack
home on the road
high-rise money metropolitan meccas no
down on the farm where I befriended some cows no
from big lit up cities to small one horse towns
where the horse moved to the big city
I just never found one—a home in the darkness maybe
I found a few bars that were as close as I could get
mom was german schnapps and dad was scotch
loved to hug and visit with them all night long
didn’t do much talking, just sat around together
passing the time away-nothing to say empty nights away
in the bars of the New Orleans, Chicagos and Memphis’s of the world
from one side of the net to the other
