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John Schumann
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Coming Home
South-east Asian telephone lines aren't what they might be,
I can barely hear your voice... I hope you can hear me...
It's been a lifetime here in Jakarta but its only been a week,
There are Generals in their limousines and children on the street.
There are ships in the harbour and the planes roll in,
Ice in the beer and American gin.
I've picked up my ticket and I'm coming home...
There are ships in the harbour and the planes roll in,
Ice in the beer and American gin.
I've picked up my ticket and I'm coming home...
I'm coming home...
It's and hard rain here in Jakarta and it kills the afternoon,
So it's tea on the verandah, telling lies and swapping tunes.
Is history a measure of wasted time, is it only a matter of chance?
Watch the shadows not the puppets, watch the dancers not the dance...
There's something here that I can't quite touch,
Perhaps it's the heat and I'm thinking too much,
Here I am coming home.
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There are ships in the harbour and the planes roll in,
Ice in the beer and American gin.
I've picked up my ticket and I'm coming home...
I'm coming home...
And the dark guns and glasses of the military,
The drains are open and the rats run free...
My passport tells me I'm coming home...
There are ships in the harbour and the planes roll in,
Ice in the beer and American gin.
I've picked up my ticket and I'm coming home...
I'm coming home...
Coming home
It's been a lifetime here
Coming home
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