Is it really the redwoods you miss? Are they all that different from all of this, all of this? Is it the people or the place you always find yourself Longing for, longing for? From the ears that hold your hair back To the lap that lets you rest, If this who you are today, Where will I be next year? Can you hear your spirits dying When it's cold and you're far away, far away? If this is who you are today, Where will I be next year?