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I can see the traveller, walking on his own
I can see the mother, with her newly grown
Sitting by the fire so nearly
Waiting all alone
Watching for her traveller dearly
Wishing for his return home
I can see the people, in their emerald domes
I can see a mountain, rising from a stone
Towering like a bright-green steeple
Always far away
Beckoning the emerald people
Climbing up that mountain, someday
I told you something, I may not have shown
I'm telling you now; I'm not going to roam
It's good to be home
I can see the no-man, wanting to be found
I can see a lady, floating in her gown
Peering through a soul-searching candle
Footsteps on the way
Listening for a fate-turning handle
Now her traveller's home again to stay
I told you something, I may not have shown
I'm telling you now; I'm not going to roam
It's good to be home
It's good to be home