Letras
The clothes are torn out on the line
There's a note pinned to my door
The Superdome is cold and dark
And the clouds are hanging lower
A bottle in a paper bag
Reminders of the scarred
And I'm homesick in my own backyard
I can smell the autumn leaves are burning
Somewhere down the lane
And I can hear the sirens drowning out
The sound of children playing
But the wind has blown away my hat
And caught my pride off guard
And I'm homesick in my own backyard
It's too late, too late
To make up for old history
It's too late, too late
To fire up shot out stars
And there's no escaping
This damned dark aching inside of me
And I'm homesick
In my own backyard
Whoa the windows and the welcome mat
They still look the same
And in the distance I can hear the ghost
Of someone call my name
But when you stumble from your state of grace
The pavement's cold and hard
And I'm homesick in my own backyard
Whoa the clothes are torn out on the line
There's a note pinned to my door
The Superdome is cold and dark
And the clouds are hanging lower
A bottle in a paper bag
Reminders of the scarred
And I'm homesick in my own backyard
Yes I'm homesick in my own backyard
Yes I'm homesick in my own backyard