Coming Home - Gabrielle Aplin

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

Wondered 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