I wonder where my friend has gone I wonder where it all went wrong Was there something that I should have known? I looked for him in Amsterdam I cried for him in Birmingham Wondered if he’s ever coming home Coming home, coming home Standing underneath the sky With nothing of my own I’m here picking flowers But all my seeds are left unsown Better off if he was coming home Better off if he was coming home Had a man, tall and fine I left him by an old road sign Told him I was off to Mexico With my feet on the track And your shadow on my back Wandered if I’m ever coming home Coming home, coming home Standing underneath the sky With nothing of my own I’m here picking flowers But all my seeds are left unsown Better off if he was coming home Better off if he was coming home Better off if he was coming home Coming home, coming home Standing underneath the sky With nothing of my own I’m here picking flowers But all my seeds are left unsown Better off if he was coming home Better off if he was coming home Better off if he was coming home Better off if he was coming home