Endearing though to me,
many a man has tried to flee
the sordid corners of
this putrid penitentiary,
oh, are you here with me?
Are you here with me, or
am I dreaming of your shackles
loudly dragging through
the hallways of my reverie,
oh, are you here with me?
Farther than a lunar axis,
as far as I know outer space is.
Innovation never takes us
as far as we can be.
What is left for me?
Dimmer than a summer solstice,
north of any blooming roses,
melted water, open faces,
below the winter freeze
the cold paralyzes me.
I'm holding on to home.
Thumbs up for the next ride in,
I'll go where fuel carries it.
I hope it's reaching Gulu town.
I'll meet my friends sometime
around the bend.
The kitchen smells of memories,
and there beside the quarterlies
are photos of my family, but
some of them are missing me, and
I am missing them right back.
I'm holding on to home.
There is nothing captivating
on this road that we are roaming.
I know every step to take,
I know every creak the stairs will make.
Holding on to home
like it's as real as a stone, and
if I told you: "you imagined it".
Would it matter anymore, if
you're with me?
As long as you're with me.
I'm holding on to home.
