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I am blind woman finding my way home
By the map of a tune
When the song that is in me
Is the song I hear from the world
It’s now written down
Ad I don’t remember the words
But I know when I hear it
I’ll have made it myself
And I’ll be home
Home, home, home, home

This morning a letter arrived
In the nine o clock post
The department of historical reparation
Who do I blame?
The priests, my father, myself
Tick the box provided
I'm burning my soapbox and
I'm taking the very next train
I'm a ciziten of nowhere
With nothing to my name
I'm a ciziten of nowhere
With nothing to my name

The wise women say
You must live in your own skin
Call it home
No matter how broken you are
Misused by the world
You can heal

I'm on my last journey
Though my lines are all wonky
They spell me a map
And it makes sense
Where is the song
That is in me
It’s a song I hear from the world
I’ll set my burdens down and sleep
The spot that I now lie at last is the place
That I call home
It’s the place that I call home