Home is where the heart is my heartís on home
tho Iíve never really had one to call my own.
But Iíve been given a key by the carpenter of Galilee
with interest paid the titleís made to me.


Everybody dreams of going home it seems
and lately I am no exception to the rule.
Oh but home is so much more than windows, walls, and doors
itís a warm embrace and smiling faces waiting you.


Home where there is no night.
Home where the sun is the light.
The place Iíve been dreaming of so long.
Loved ones stand to welcome me
but his sweet face will be the first Iíll see.
When my journeyís over I am going home.

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