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As I reach for a peach, slide a line down behind, a sofa in San Tropez breaking a stick with a brick on the sand riding a wave in the wake of an old sedan sleeping alone in the drone of the darkness scratched by the sand that fell from my love keeping my dreams and I still hear her calling if you're alone, I'll come home Backward and homebound, a pigeon, a dove gone with the wind, the rain on a airplane owning a home with no silver spoon I'm drinking champagne like a good tycoon sooner than wiat for a break in the weather I'll gather my far-glung thoughts together speeding away on the wind to a new day if you're alone, I'll come home And I pause for a while by a country style and listen to the things they say digging the gold in a hole in my hand hoping the good, take a look at the way things end and you're leading me down to a place by the sea I hear your soft voice calling to me making a date for later by phone And if you're alone, I'll come home (Thanks to Marco for these corrections) From Letras Mania