Moving Roots

I’m looking for the path that goes through the fields

I’m looking for the wood and the stone

I’m looking for the things I can take in my hands

In a way, I‘m going back home

I’m looking for the thumb that measures the inch

I’m looking for the foot in the mile

I’m looking for the furlong that goes through the fields

I’m looking for the spirit of a child

 

I’m moving my roots back home

I’m moving my roots back home

 

I’m looking where I stand, what is all around

I’m looking at the moon and the sun

I’m looking at the earth I’ve gathered from the ground

There’s flint and chalk in my hands

 

My ancestors built this great ring of stones

Maybe, one day, we’ll all understand

The hunter and the farmer, the woman and the man

We’re all going home

I’m closing my eyes to see what’s inside

And feel the blood in my veins

The way has been long, the road has been high

I’m standing here once again

I’m finding the way that goes through the fields

I’m finding the wood and the stone

I’m finding those things I can take in my hands

In a way, I’m going back home