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?