[Originally performed by The Beatles]
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Two of us riding nowhere,
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Spending someone's hard earned day.
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You and me Sunday driving,
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Not arriving on our way home.
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Here on our way home,
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Here on our way home,
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We're going home.
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Two of us sending postcards,
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Writing letters on my wall.
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You and me burning matehes,
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Litting latches on our way back home.
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Here on our way home,
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Here on our way home,
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We're going home.
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You and I have memories
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Longer than the road,
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That stretches out ahead.
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Two of us wearing raincoats,
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Standing solo in the sun.
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You and me closing paper,
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Getting nowhere on our way back home.
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Here on our way home,
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Here on our way home.
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We're going home.
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Two Of Us
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| Laibach |
