I’m living in the city where my grandfather was born. Where he walked, the first years of his life. I wander and I hear the language that he spoke, And it takes me back to when I was a child, when I was a child.
I had to come so far, to feel so close. I had to come so far, to feel so close.
How far do you have to go before you find your way back, how far do you have to go before you find your way back home?
I’ve visited the house where my grandmother grew up. From photographs I recognise a chair, a chest of drawers. I look out the window and I see the view she saw, And it takes me back to when I was a child, when I was a child.
I had to come so far, to feel so close. I had to come so far, to feel so close.
How far do you have to go before you find your way back, how far do you have to go before you find your way back home?
I know I’ll never see them again, I’ll never be a child again, go back to that time again. I’ll never set foot in their amazing cities, their terrible cities, industrial cities.
I had to come so far, to feel so close. I had to come so far, to feel so close. (I’m living in the city, I’m living in the city where my grandfather was born.)
How far do you have to go before you find your way back, how far do you have to go before you find your way back home?