Besedila: Iron & Wine. Around the Well. Homeward, These Shores.

Homeward, the new road meanders
Washed out the old road as to what did I bring
Flowers, a verse about springtime
Perchance in the tree line, she's waiting for me

Homeward, these shoes worn to paper
Thin as the reason I left here so young
Homeward, and what if I see her
There in the doorway I walked away from?


White house asleep on the hillside
Firm as a habit I've struggled to shed
Homeward, with heaven above me
Old road behind me, a door up ahead