
Going home on Christmas eve Flying over grapevines The older year Breathing in the memories The awkward nostalgia Is straight wrecking me Later on They said Later on I’ll get Used to it My father said more than once God has a sense of humor Because I’m his son Coffee down on grapevine main Kids that were walking, now talking Now making me feel so strange Later on They said Later on I’ll get Used to it Going back again Feels different Going back again Used to come back so tired Now I’m tempted to go Tip-top been and I don’t got a sense in my head I can’t stop it I’ll probably end up in jail (oh, well) Downtown and snowing Christmas is coming Everybody needs to be at home Cold wind a blowing A warm home-coming But oftentimes the place you feel alone
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