Trevor Hodge

Trevor Hodge


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Not Our Home

Written By: Trevor Hodge

I’ve packed up my bags
But left my belongings behind
They would only remind me of here
And they’ll pull me back here in time
So my hands are empty and bare
There’s nothing that I can cling to
Except for the rail of the bus
And the promise of everything new

The houses and trees
The street lights and telephone booths
And the cars at the side of the road
Fly past as we go on our route
And they all get left far behind
As we press on to what is ahead
To be with our family again
And rejoice at the feast that’s prepared

And the road is long
But our destination’s sure
Because this is not our home
Because this is not our home

The road isn’t straight
The road isn’t level or wide
And the signposts are sometimes obscure
It can be one hell of a ride
But the driver has been here before
And I know that he’ll get us through
Because he is not of this town
But the country that we’re going to

We slow to a halt
The bus driver opens the door
There’s a lady who’s waiting outside
So he invites her aboard
But her eyes start filling with tears
Because she has nothing to pay
But the bus driver takes out his wallet
And covers her fare anyway.