Текст песни
She folds his shirt by the window
Tiny hands in the yard
Three small shadows on the floorboards
Ask if long is very far
She says, Soon, my darlings
And smooths the map in her mind
Keeps his boots by the doorway
Like he'll step in right on time
Each night the clock gets older
Each dawn she lights the stove
Little faces at the curtain
Watching for the road
Come back home, come back home
To the porch and the jam jars
Come back home, come back home
To these hearts in her palms
They are waiting, they are waiting
With their eyes on the gate
Come back home, come back home
Don't let love come late
She mends the tear in his collar
While the children play war
With a tin cup for a helmet
And a stick for a sword
She tells them he is brave now
And brave means coming through
Then she turns to the evening
And whispers, Where are you?
The kettle hums its answer
The radio fades out
She holds that last letter
Like a prayer held in her mouth
Come back home, come back home
To the porch and the jam jars
Come back home, come back home
To these hearts in her palms
They are waiting, they are waiting
With their eyes on the gate
Come back home, come back home
Don't let love come late
If the night stays heavy
She will stand it by the door
For the children and the living
For the man she adores
Every mile has a witness
Every tear leaves a line
Still she keeps one clean place
At the table for his sign
Come back home, come back home
To the porch and the jam jars
Come back home, come back home
To these hearts in her palms
They are waiting, they are waiting
With their eyes on the gate
Come back home, come back home
Don't let love come late
She folds his shirt by the window
And waits for one more day
