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von The Small Glories

From the late days of summer
When Western winds blow dry
To the bright light of winter
And the spring river rise

Mountains to the prairies
The places I have roamed
Only small glories
Thinking about my home

Home
Home
Thinking bout my home

Sometimes I′m like a gypsy
With a wandering soul
Some say I must be crazy
No place to call my own


No matter where I come from
I know where I belong
With all my angels
Friends I call home
Home
Thinking bout my home
La da da la da da da la da da da
Home
Home
Thinking bout my home
La da da da la da da da
Thinking bout my home

From the late days of summer
When Western winds blow dry
To the bright light of winter
And the spring river rise