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Tryin' to Get Home

     Am             G     Am
With sonnets risin' in my throat,
  F        Em    Am
I buttoned up my chainmail coat,
F                  E
Tryin' to get home.
Am              G      Am
Rumpled morning in the skies,
    F    Em     Am
One poet in his best disguise
F
Tryin' to get home, 
      E                  Am
On my own, tryin' to get home.

God have mercy on the wrecks
Who lie in pain upon the decks,
Tryin' to get home.
Like salmon trapped before a dam,
Each soul's dyin' cry, I am
Tryin' to get home,
On my own, tryin' to get home.

F
Through a thousand drug store scenes,
 F
Examinin' the magazines
   E
But never buyin'.
F
Home was just a six-page spread,
F
Well-kept lawn, kids well fed,
E
Just like dyin'.
F
Home was something fought for and defended,
  E
A gleaming castle where the whole thing ended.

With morning shadows in my head,
I left my warm and boyhood bed,
Tryin' to get home.
I walked as loudly as I dared,
Began my voyage cold and scared,
Tryin' to get home,
On my own, tryin' to get home.

Through a thousand drug store scenes,
Examinin' the magazines
But never buyin'.
Home was just a six-page spread,
Well-kept lawn, kids well fed,
Just like dyin'.
Home was something fought for and defended,
A gleaming castle where the whole thing ended.

With sonnets risin' in my throat,
I buttoned up my chainmail coat,
Tryin' to get home.
Rumpled morning in the skies,
One poet in his best disguise
Tryin' to get home,
On my own, tryin' to get home.
On my own, tryin' to get home.

(Words and music by Tom Paxton, 1968)

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