Luna Stormere
To Find a Place to Call Home Again
Maybe there is a home for me
a place where I belong
And maybe I, maybe I will go there someday
just to feel the weight of it all
Through my fingers and in my blood
On my shoulders and through my lungs
And I will sit on the chair that waits for me, so patiently
just wondering what took so long
Once upon a ticking clock
with minutes old and seconds lost
a rhythm born that was forgot
but home is where the heart is docked
So time, so time may come
Oh and time may go on and on and on and on and on
But I am, but I am forever
just a piece of dusk till dawn
Once upon a ticking clock,
with minutes old and seconds lost,
a rhythm born that was forgot,
but home is where the heart is docked.
Mapmaker, oh mapmaker
sitting there with your pen and paper
what would you say, what would you say
to the girl who has lost her way?
When all the roads are caught up in a tangle
and the compass points north but I'm unable
to see, to feel, to find a place to call home again
And the clocks hands - they are taking their time
to show which way the wind is making the sail
pull the heart strings, feather wings.
They unfold with the hope that tomorrow
the sun will burn hotter than the sorrow
and, anything and everything is clear.
It's crystal clear.
To Find a Place to Call Home Again
Maybe there is a home for me
a place where I belong
And maybe I, maybe I will go there someday
just to feel the weight of it all
Through my fingers and in my blood
On my shoulders and through my lungs
And I will sit on the chair that waits for me, so patiently
just wondering what took so long
Once upon a ticking clock
with minutes old and seconds lost
a rhythm born that was forgot
but home is where the heart is docked
So time, so time may come
Oh and time may go on and on and on and on and on
But I am, but I am forever
just a piece of dusk till dawn
Once upon a ticking clock,
with minutes old and seconds lost,
a rhythm born that was forgot,
but home is where the heart is docked.
Mapmaker, oh mapmaker
sitting there with your pen and paper
what would you say, what would you say
to the girl who has lost her way?
When all the roads are caught up in a tangle
and the compass points north but I'm unable
to see, to feel, to find a place to call home again
And the clocks hands - they are taking their time
to show which way the wind is making the sail
pull the heart strings, feather wings.
They unfold with the hope that tomorrow
the sun will burn hotter than the sorrow
and, anything and everything is clear.
It's crystal clear.