[Did he go home?] [He flew out tonight.] Walking all the world is white [I'm definitely going to come see you in February] and all the sky is black [... ] this place is calling me The memory is clearer now the memory has always had this haze And on the other side it's warm and green a single voice is singing of my destiny And so I turn around again I stop- [the only people for me are the mad ones] Is this home? Walking round my fears with every step my body dies and all the feeling turns to cold Still fighting for some direction some perception as to where my heaven can be found And though each time I start to walk it starts to slowly disappear I can hear that voice again but each time all is lost in the snow So I turn around again and so I turn around Is this home And if this all is a lie then I am not afraid to keep my head up pain is lasting still I'm asking Is this home is this home is this home? Walking all the world is white and all the sky is black this place is calling me