The storm is coming down & the radio is dead the old tin cans fill the endless carousel like kings of the road & nothing is what it seems through the blurry misted gla** stuck back at this crossroads facing up to my Past There's a mystic light that's shining white & warms my worn out frame it beckons to the Eastern path & through the blinding rain, it calls to me again So I turn the wheel into the rising Sun locked to the line of a journey to what may come Throwing the map on the back seat, I trust in shadow play foot down on the throttle - I pull away There's no horizon, no sheltering trees as the cross hair mind forces me onwards with dust bowl dreams of water & of comfort... & of company… & of rest again Home - This is the last stop on the road of life Going Home - Cancel the meetings you organized Hands are pressing greetings now I recognize their shape we walk down the Golden Highway - no ticker tape! Back street houses opening doors tiny windows to their soul Pulled along in the flow & the rush of the wind as we go, as we go... And it's a little bit funny now, as I hear familiar songs Brushing off the cobwebs, in the corners where they belong Cataloging fragrances & the objects that I feel to separate my monsters from the thoughts that are not real Welcome Home - Gentle soldier, place that rifle down... Welcome Home - the War is over! The cavalry returned & the lessons have all been learned No more fear of casualty now the old life is stripped away onto the final homecoming with no parades! Family houses have opened their doors to usher me alone Pulled along in the flow & lost in the wind as I go, as I go... Hands are pressing greetings now I recognize their shapes we walk down the Golden Highway - no ticker tape! Back street houses opening doors tiny windows to their soul Pulled along in the flow & the rush of the wind As we go (x4) Welcome Home - Gentle soldier, the white dove will arise Welcome Home - your pain is over Your friends have all returned & the battlefields have burned The ticking clocks are slowing now to meet a new born pace we float on the clouds of remembrance, full of grace! Supported by their comforting arms Old memories wipe away Watching over the show, the hush of the ghosts as they go, as they go...