(lyrics by Michael Timmins, music by Michael Timmins, Greg Clarke and Brodie Lodge)
No one in sight for fifty miles,
sleeping fields sigh as I glide across their spines.
If I could just reach the crest of that hill
this whole day will tumble and out the night will spill.
The sky is still as a spinning top,
shooting stars drop like burning words from above.
If I could just connect all these dots,
the truth would tumble like a Cynic vexed by love.
And yet the people keep saying
I’m miles from my home,
miles from my home.
I met you again in my sleep last night,
these are days of slow boats and false starts.
Hearts remain under lock and key,
you will be the one to set them both free.
And yet the people will tell you
your miles from your home,
miles from your home.
But that’s where I want to be
Out there searching,
out here fumbling,
out here waiting
for you and you for me.
The moon hangs like a question mark,
pale as milk, bold as a promise.
When will you share the sights with us?
When will we hold you in our arms?
And the people we’ll tell them
we’re miles from our home,
miles from our home.