(kirsty maccoll/pete glenister)      All it took was the time it takes   To smoke a cigarette or jam on the brakes   I nearly had it in my hands and now it's gone   Am I complaining 'bout by luck again?    Well it seems to me I was the one   Stood moaning in the morning sun   And now it doesn't matter much wherever I may roam   I keep feeling, feeling my way home      Now you see me, now you don't   You say you will but I know you won't   You nearly had me in your hands but now I'm gone   But not complaining 'bout my life again   No siree, and what I've got belongs to me entirely   I look left and I look right and I cross this road alone   'cos I'm feeling my way   I may go up, I may go down but wherever I may roam   I keep feeling my way home      Shall I explain away my life again?    Well it seems to me it's too far gone   To wonder where it all went wrong   I get up and I get down but I get there on my own   And I'm feeling my way   I look left and I look right and I cross this road alone   'cos I'm feeling my way home