I lay awake for a night
Drenched in anguish and bright light
I dreamt about an ancient house

And a slow Southern home

I was there, and so were you

Not a word was spoke, nothing new
It was old, all was known
Like a sheep to the fold


A blind man sang, bells of joy
I was a stranger, but still a boy

My parents dead, the vines had grown
Through my slow Southern home


In those eyes, I had no name
They had seen fear, and all was vain
Bells of joy he did sing

His noise did ring and ring and ring

And everyone must come back

The flames have risen, the plumes were black
And if you're welcomed home by friends
It won't ever be the same again