Booth
Rows rule the garden, flowers divided
Habit embroidered through soil and its borders
Our politics of arranging our objects
Longitude, latitude, time zone.
I was a guest in the house where I lived
Twelve months of mail addressed where to lay my head
A policy of common cartography
Longitude, latitude, time zone.
And all I want to say to you, my love
Is you're my home, you're my home
You're my home, you're my home.
Wool weaves a pattern, bodies warm a blanket
Love fills its quarters in cross roads and its corners
Above this globe the sun casts no shadow
No dark lines, no road signs, no road.
And all I want to say to you, my love
Is you're my home, you're my home
You're my home, you're my home
You're my home.