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Goin' Home
On the
hill where Custer was, Making his last stand, With the
Indians all around, And his gun in his hand. Such a
wind was blowing that day, Through the
battleground, I
could feel it in my hair, As I
turned towards downtown. Weaving through the
buildings, Cutting though the
streets, Slicing through the
culture, Piling on the
weeks. Going home, I'm going home. Going home, I'm going home. Going home. Dropping in on you my friend, Is just like old times, Said the
fool who signed the
paper, To assorted slimes. It's hard to get blood from a
stone But for you I'll give it a
try, To provide your accomodations, And leave you satisfied. You'd think it was easy, To give your life away, To not have to live up to, The
promises you made. Going home, I'm going home. Going home, I'm going home. Going home. Elusively she cut the
phone, Moved from cell to cell, Really looking remarkable, And obviously doing well. She made a
turn on a
wooden bridge, Into the
battleground, With a
thousand warriors on the
ridge, She tried to turn her radio down. Battle drums were pounding, All around her car, She saw her clothes were changing, Into sky and stars. Going home, I'm going home. Going home, I'm going home. Going home, I'm going home. Going home, I'm going home. Going home.
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