slow birds, no breeze   Iron hearts, rustin' streams   Long march, small crimes   soft words whisper    Its time to come home   your eyes   to bring back your charms   to sit real still   in my arms   clocks tick, trees pound   lions roar on empty streets   long lists in black and white   red words that read like   the forth of july   you're home, look at me,   you're home, uh huh,   you're home   in my arms