A summer evening, I walk past the windows.
There´s a baby crying, and someone´s cooking dinner.
There´s laughter on the TV and someone´s learning the violin.
And how that home appeals, at times like this I feel.
I´d like to live like anybody else, in one place.
I could be happy and fulfilled, in one place.
So I get the map out and I draw a line of where we´ve been,
and it goes through sea and sky.
Twenty-five planes this year and it´s only July.
This is not some bible like ´On the road´,
it´s just a song about coming home.
You know I have found I´m happiest weaving from town to town,
and you know Bruce said we should keep moving around,
and maybe we all get too tied down, I don´t know, I don´t know.
Happy to be home, but still I´m happy to be home.
In the end, if you take care, you can be happy or unhappy anywhere,
and I think we maybe all rely too much on one place.
Though I never would deny the need for one place