Home

It's been a year in suburbia
Finally got some sleep and a phobia
of public places
Sprinklers on at the break of dawn
Little rainbows glow on the plastic lawns
It's at least an acre

Silent speeding electric cars
Pass the RVs on the boulevard
Some roads aren't made to roam
A dozen leaf blowers breaks my brain
But I've got food and water so I can't complain
Guess I'll make myself at home

When we left for the wicked west
Were we bored, depressed, or just innocent?
Oh, I can't remember
From the crowded streets of the old northeast
To the burning pavement of the Valley
We've seen a lot together

Thought we'd be on our own by now
But we're hiding in someone else's house
We could leave well enough alone
Until we find a place that's closer to town
Or where there ain't nothing for miles around
We could make ourselves at home

They want you here, they want you there
All I want is an easy chair
When the sun is setting
Don't get me wrong, I like to take a trip
When the nights are long and the faucet's drip
Is unrelenting

Bags are packed, flag unfurled
No looking back, you can see the world
Book a cruise from your telephone
But you don't have to get on the bus
There's a little old place with all your stuff
It's an island of your own
Don't believe those big airlines
Vacation is such a simple vibe
It's a state of mind and soul
You can make yourself at home