Coming Home
I wonder where my friend has gone
I wonder where it all went wrong
Was there something I should have known
I looked for her in Amsterdam
I cried for her in Birmingham
Wonder if she's ever coming home
Coming home, coming home
Standing underneath the sky with nothing of my own
Out here picking flowers, all the seeds are left unsown
Better off if she was coming home
Oh, better off if she was coming home
I had a woman tall and fine
She left me at a railway sign
Something 'bout she's off to Mexico
With my feet on the track
And her shadow on my back
I wonder if I'm ever going home
Going home, going home
Standing underneath the sky with nothing of my own
Out here picking flowers, all the seeds are left unsown
Better off if I was going home
Oh, better off if I was going home.
Coming home, coming home
Standing underneath the sky with nothing of my own
Out there picking flowers all the seeds are left unsown
Better off if she was coming home
Oh better off she was coming home
Writer/s: Gabrielle Aplin, John Smith, Lisa Hannigan