Long Way Home

Standing on the shoulders of the morning
You can see the moon
That lonely sickle scrapes the sky
And it's rising on the widow's peak
Of the afternoon

And it's a long way home

Ashtrays are graveyards for the cigarettes you smoke
Second-hand spirits rise from the filter
Headed for heaven but they
Stop at the ceiling
And into the walls they soak

And it's a long way home

I caught you looking at yourself
Who could blame you?
I was looking at you to
Baby, all the things you are afraid of
Are not afraid of you

And it's a long way home