Home

Yeah, get her on the phone
 Speak to her son
 You know I miss home
 A story about this boy from the South
 Mummy was out, night shift to keep the house
 No handouts, no Dad round
 Stay home, do homework
 Like mum do, move back home
 If not
 You could regret my son
 He who does not love
 Abides in death
 It was heaven sent
 I was never meant
 For the schoolyard bully
 For the toolbox money
 Did it on my own
 She couldn't read chemical equation
 I couldn't eat the bone
 You boy not grown
 No, I feel alone (No)
 You have your Mamma, and that is all you need
 Look at your power, and the way that you exceed
 Took my weakness, and made a strength out of me
 African solution
 Citizen's pollution
 Tie a shoe string and
 Survive by the rules
 You're a fool, just go back to school
 Or I'll send you on plane, give your uncles a call
 Nighttime walks, antecedent oratory
 Sing a song of dreamland
 Forever purgatory
 He took you from your family and settled you in North
 And then you put me on your back and gave him a divorce
 What would you think if you heard this song?
 My present Mother, my hero unsung
 Yeah, get her on the phone
 Speak to her son
 You know I miss home
 You know I miss home
 Hey Mama
 Hey Papa
 Coming home, on the road, in the dark
 Past six, on the phone, in the park
 Coming home
 Coming home
 Hey Mama
 Hey Papa
 Coming home, on the road, in the dark
 Past six, on the phone, in the park
 Coming home
 Coming home
 He was raised by his mum in the 'burbs
 A woman who was liberal with words
 Liberal with teachings and preachings she'd lecture
 Still he'd never listen to her endless conjecture
 Sucked sugar cane in the summer with his Granddad
 Found what he needed the freedom in acres papers were made for others
 Never him
 Still he found warmth in the darkest of kin
 Skin baked black but he bore this with pride
 Hands cracked dry till the day he died
 He moved to the south and created a life
 One wife and a child with enough to provide
 He laughed at the people who moved with the times
 He moved with the tide
 Watched it wash the shore sweetly and dreamt of the life that he'd left
 Awoke to a new day calves in the pen
 Community close with innumerable friends
 The taste of amok with steamed rice and curry
 Cold beer brew in his hammock no worries
 Laid back
 Way back
 Mac daddy
 Still slim waisted in loose fit khakis
 A canopy of trees on the way to his home
 Green palette gate that he painted alone
 Clay dirt track hidden by the mangroves
 A humble abode he'd imbued with his soul
 Head full of kindness heart full of light
 Though he never read prose nor needed to write
 Those with the least are the kindest he thought
 As he shared pork with the orphans and poor
 Sliced fresh fruit for the kids on his stoop
 Blended a batch then he served it as juice
 Show me the proof that he didn't live well
 Surrounded by loved ones with stories to tell
 Kampuchea (Kampuchea)
 Hey Mama
 Hey Papa
 Coming home, on the road, in the dark
 Past six, on the phone, in the park
 Coming home
 Coming home
 Hey Mama
 Hey Papa
 Coming home, on the road, in the dark
 Past six, on the phone, in the park
 Coming home
 Coming home
 Home is where the heart is
 Look at where we started (Yeah, yeah)
 Home is where the heart is
 Look at where we started (Yeah)
 Home is where the heart is
 Look at where we started (I'm sorry Mama)
 Home is where