Lines of yellow, lines of red
Brake lights keep on braking down the road ahead
And I'm cold, and I'm calloused,
The blinding lights of Dallas send me home
Send me home
I heard the herald sing,
"All ye wayward come!"
What glad tidings bring,
All you wayward sons!
(Home, home)
Canned and static conversations over longer distanced phones
When every day's an expectation for the roots from which you've grown
And you're no stranger to the silent days or nights spent all alone
Once in a while, turn to smile when you think about your home
Where mom and dad have decked the fixtures, every old familiar smell
On every wall a dozen pictures, each with stories you could tell
And there's no place you'd rather be, then where you just can be yourself
You're going home
And these Christmas lights won't steer me wrong
'Cause I'll drive all night to carol songs
And that old porch light will still be on
When I step inside, I'm going home.
Dead trees, and dull gray skies, within their season, helps you know you're still alive
When all's at rest, the restless thrive so take me home, Christmas lights.
Dead trees, and dull gray skies, within their season, helps you know you're still alive
When all's at rest, the restless thrive so take me home, Christmas lights.