She said: Baby don't go there
Baby don't go there
Baby don't go where your heart could break
Apart.
Like sail boats
tossed on shore in a storm.

I kept my eyes on the highway
As she stared out her window
Sayin':
"Ya' open up your heart.
That's where the knife goes.

"Yeah", I said:
"Who'd want that."
Then we drove along
in silence for hours.
The rockies
turned to prairie
Black and gold and open
and I thought of
everything I shouldn't say.

Baby don't go there
Baby don't go there
Baby don't go where your heart could break
Baby don't go there
Baby don't go there
Baby don't go where your heart could

Break down as hard
as the rain slammin' itself against the blacktop.
But there was a Joy in her eyes
when lightning sliced the sky
so I pulled over and we leaned against the car

So then I'm babbling like a fool.
Her head is bowed towards her shoes
And I keep going
'cuz she keeps standing still.
We are soaked right to the skin.
She grabs my arms and pulls me in
as yet another 18 wheeler
passes us and fades ...

Fades long and slow ...
Like a warm night slides into morning.

I should tell you 'bout the time
I gave a gal a ride
to Coney Island.

She slid out of bed, trying not to wake him.
His eyes were closed.
He wasn't sleeping.
He just played along.
Then he and the clock listened for the lock and her footsteps fading.

And I know what she's feelin'
Know what she's thinkin'
Know what she's doin'
Going off alone.
Woh, oh.
Trying to find Home.
Find Home.

The subway doors opened
and he moved forward.
Up the stairs
to the trains
and all that light.

Under the great big flag
he made up his mind
left his stuff behind
and started walking.

And I know what
he's feelin'
Know what he's thinkin'
Know what he's doin'
Going off alone.
Woh, oh.
Trying to find Home.
Find Home.

I work these sidewalks.
Singing the Old Songs.
Watching the wounded
follow their heartbeats
as they pass on by.

I know what you're feelin'
Know what you're thinkin'
Know what you're doin'
Going off.

Hey, I know what you're feelin'
Know what you're thinkin'
Know what you're doin'
Going off alone.
Woh, oh.
Trying to find Home.
Find Home.

Home

(Lead Vox on this recording = William Crowdis)

I've been hunting for free
but I've never felt free until now.
I run through the trees and the leaves
'till I throw myself down.
I am laughing
until I am crying.
Then came something
far worse than dying.

I was going, going. Gone.
Broken again
all broken again
I'm going, going. Gone.

But you dear you're special
you've never felt broken inside.
Your world is a stage
where the lights never fade
or turn off.
It must be amazing
to know you'll be all right
sure that you'll never
never know what it feels like

to be going, going. Gone.
Broken again
all broken again.
You're going, going. Gone.
Broken again.
All broken again inside.
Broken. Broken inside.
Broken. Broken inside.

Time changes everything.
Water wears away stone.
You can count on one small thing:
you're not really alone ...

even when you feel you're going, going. Gone.
Going, going. Gone.
When you're going, going. Gone.
Broken again, all broken again
inside.

Going, going. Gone.

On our street in the morning
the sun hits Saint John’s steeple
and the new copper shimmers to the cross.
It covers building roof tops
slides across their faces
and reaches out, to find me on our bench.

On our street
there’s always something changing.
Light and shadows shifting.
Lovers going by.
On our street
there’s always something changing.
All the cars and trucks
and busy folks or lovers
going by.

On our street in the evening
the winds that came for supper
have all wandered off
towards the moon.
They coax her out of hiding.
lift her
far above these tree tops
so the poets
can blacken their thin pages.

CHORUS

I don’t know ...
but our tiny old apartment
got far too large once you were gone
so I just stay outside.
And I know ...
I’ve got nothin’ done on anything
I wait and walk and wonder
what the Doctors
should have tried ...

On our street after midnight
I close the door so quietly
and climb the stairs just like we used to do.
I get your clothes and pile them
on your side of our big bed
and smile as I tell you ‘bout my day.

On our street
Dear, there’s always something changing.
Light and shadow shifting. Lovers going by.
On our street
Dear, there’s always something changing.
All the cars and trucks and busy folks
and lovers,
lovers just like us,
there's always lovers going by.