I wonder where my friend has gone
I wonder where it all went wrong
Was there something that I should have known?
I looked for him in Amsterdam
I cried for him in Birmingham
Wondered if he’s ever coming home
Coming home, coming home
Standing underneath the sky
With nothing of my own
I’m here picking flowers
But all my seeds are left unsown
Better off if he was coming home
Better off if he was coming home
Had a man, tall and fine
I left him by an old road sign
Told him I was off to Mexico
With my feet on the track
And your shadow on my back
Wandered if I’m ever coming home
Coming home, coming home
Standing underneath the sky
With nothing of my own
I’m here picking flowers
But all my seeds are left unsown
Better off if he was coming home
Better off if he was coming home
Better off if he was coming home
Coming home, coming home
Standing underneath the sky
With nothing of my own
I’m here picking flowers
But all my seeds are left unsown
Better off if he was coming home
Better off if he was coming home
Better off if he was coming home
Better off if he was coming home