Home used to be a short
walk away,
No matter where I went --
I used to walk down the street
after school, and
there it was

Now it's a sad memory
and a fitful dream

There's no one to comfort me
anymore
when my feelings are hurt
No one to hold me
when I have nightmares
No place to hide
from the cold cruel world

I live like a gypsy now
in my dusty roadside tent
Tonight I sit and dream alone
by the firelight
And tomorrow, who knows
where I'll go

It makes no difference anyway
It's all the same to me
The scene changes
but people are the same
No one wants to make room for
a vagabond

Home is a hope and a prayer
Just around that next bend
Just over the next hill
if I'm lucky

And the road goes ever on...