I went down to the parade The streets were closed and everybody huddled to the barriers Hoping for a better view, waiting for the floats to come through And leave a trail of confetti in their wake
Oh, on a thousand roads We are coming home
Yellow streamers on the ground And blue balloons are floating overhead like restless satellites Focused on the concrete, and straying down the side streets At the mercy of the temperamental breeze
Oh, on a thousand roads We are coming home Old familiar roads We are coming home
Every face was to the sky A small town on a summer day to waste away with no better plan Than to sit and watch a stray balloon, if only for an afternoon And then continue on their way, another day
Oh, on a thousand roads We are coming home Old familiar roads
