David Byrne - Home

The ^Fdimming of the light makes the picture clearer It's just an old photograph There's nothing to ^Ghide When the ^G7world was just be^Fginning

I ^Fmemorized a face so it's not forgotten I hear the wind whistlin' Come back any^Gtime And we'll ^G7mix our lives to^Fgether^F/C

Heaven ^Fknows, what keeps mankind a^Flive^F/C Every ^Fhand, goes searching for its ^Fpartner In ^Gcrime, under ^G7chairs and behind ^Ftables Con^Gnecting, to ^G7places we have ^Fknown

^FHome, where the wheels are turning Home, why I keep returning ^GHome, where my ^G7world is breaking in ^Ftwo^F/C

^FHome, with the neighbors fighting Home, always so exciting ^GHome, were my ^G7parents telling the ^Ftruth?^F/C

^FHome, such a funny feeling ^FHome, no-one ever speaking ^FHome, with our bodies touching ^FHome, and the cameras watching ^GHome, will in^G7fect what ever you ^Fdo^F/C Where ^Ghome, comes to ^G7life from out of the ^Fblue

^FTiny little boats on a beach at sunset I took a drink from a jar And into my ^Ghead Familiar ^G7smells and ^Fflavors^F/C

Ve^Fhicles are stuck on the plains of heaven I see their wheels spinning round And every^Gwhere I can ^G7hear those people ^Fsaying^F/C

That the ^Feye, is the measure of the ^Fman ^F/C You can ^Ffly, from the stuff that still sur^Frounds you Where ^Ghome, and the ^G7band keeps marchin' ^Fon Con^Gnecting, to ^G7every living ^Fsoul Com^Gpassion, for ^G7things I'll never ^Fknow