In My Arms

Slow birds, no breeze Iron hearts, rustin' streams Long march, small crimes Soft words whisper Its time to come home Your eyes To bring back your charms To sit real still In my arms Clocks tick, trees pound Lions roar on empty streets Long lists in black and white Red words that read like The forth of july You're home, look at me, You're home, uh huh, You're home In my arms