Thoughts of flying home

The thoughts of flying home again are killing me,
Another endless stretch of work and rain.
Every fibre of my soul is willing me
To take the brash decision to remain.
Deep down though, I know well it can’t be done,
Although the harsh realities are filling me
With despair that I can’t stay here in the sun,
However hard imagination’s grilling me.

The thoughts of flying home again are killing me.
Blank depression’s all that has survived.
The prospect has been resolutely chilling me
Ever since the day that we arrived.
I feel the urge to pack a case and run.
Responsibilities, alas! are stilling me
And so I’ll merely stretch out in the sun.
The thoughts of flying home again are killing me