Jesus at the table in the early morning,
Dad, I've been thinking I got to get born.
Got to mean something heavy to somebody somewhere.
I don't know who I am but I can't stay here.
I didn't mean to stand up, I didn't mean to daydream.
I didn't want to hear it calling my name.
Regular life don't suit me at all.
I gotta get going, I'm still not home.
I try so hard and I'm still not home.
Robert Johnson was trembling, calling for help
At the edge of the field talking to himself.
Not a woman, not a dollar, not even his soul
Feels as good in his hands as that old guitar.
He say, Nobody sees how desperate I'm torn.
Feel like I'm crazy the way that I'm going.
Don't know if it's from up high or way down low.
I try so hard, I'm still not home.
I gotta get going, I'm still not home.
You know that ache's grown so familiar.
How many times I got to shoo it from my door,
Putting the shine on the far side of the river,
Come round to bruise me up a little bit more,
Come round to bruise me up just a little bit more.
One day, I'm gonna light like a season of green.
My heart is gonna run like a flying machine.
Lipstick and a nickel in the pocket of my coat.
I won't even care if I never come back.
All the windows open and the wind like wheels.
Nobody can tell you the way that it feels.
Lord, if you could see the way I'm gonna soar.
I gotta get going, I'm still not home.
I best be going, I'm still not home.
I try so hard, I'm still not home.
I gotta get going, I'm still not home.