Sitting on my porch again, like lying in bed
Listening to your voice again, filling me with dread
I hear you calling me, in my head
But sometime I'll be there, when I'm dead
I'm coming home, without you
I'm coming home, without you
I hear the prairie dogs, they're off near the stead
I see the holy light, wonder if I'm dead
I think of the holy sight, to see what's ahead
But there's no constable, must not be my bed
I'm coming home, without you
I'm coming home, without you