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