I stare out to the blanket of stars
painted across the night
and I feel the calling of home
somewhere out in the distance
beyond the reach
and touch of my fingertips
but so deeply rooted
into the beat and rhythm
of my heart
and to what distant glimmering light
have i been torn
from what star was my blood born
and how long before I return

and I have had my homes here on earth
in the faces and names
that I have found love
on the beds and the couches
I have slept and crashed
as a king
and a peasant
and lover and friend
I have lived in houses
made of wood
and hearts made of blood and soul

and yet it is always the stars
that leave me longing
for the home that is away
and inside my bones