I am fighting rush hour traffic from the airport in this compact rental car
And I am driving to the outskirts where the quiet woods and neighborhoods are
As I drive ‘neath leafy canopy’s something dappled happens to my mind
A trembling sense of hoping for the letting go I’m coming home to find

Coming home

I am sold on the virtues and vices of my solo city life
And I am driven by an appetite for complications of my own device
But these tall trees and still rooms speak in tongues that I still understand
My hard edge is worn down like course wood rubbed by loving hands

Coming home, coming home

Home is the place at the very center of your heart
Where you are perfectly content with nothing more than knowing you belong
A sigh of satisfaction on a balmy summer night
A deep reassurance that everything is gonna be alright

Coming home, coming home, coming home

I am fighting rush hour traffic from the airport in this compact rental car
And I am driving to the outskirts where the quiet woods and neighborhoods are