Woorden: Fashawn. Other. Going Home.

I wrote this song in a damn beat and I'm totally wrong,
Staring at a window, me and my mobile phone,
Puffing off some indo, feeling so far from home,
I don't know why I'm playing; I'm finally on my own.
About fifty-six days, how long have I been gone?
But who's counting I just know, it's been a little too long.

[Chorus:]
And yeah I'm travelling,
I'm packing for my back in my Connecticut,
... this is madness, I won't be happy until I get home!
I won't be happy until I get home!
I won't be happy until I get home!

And I missed the moving so fast,
I learned to take my time,
This world can be hectic; you could be left behind,
So, we stress, and let it eat us from inside,
You got to get it off your chest and keep it off your mind.
Sometimes I wonder when I'll see 25,
Well, I'll be in three years, hopefully in my time.

[Chorus:]
And yeah I'm travelling,
I'm packing for my back in my Connecticut,
... this is madness, I won't be happy until I get home!
I won't be happy until I get home!
I won't be happy until I get home!

Check it out!
Feels good!
Sometimes I feel like I'm right in my rightful way,
In the studio night and day,
Like... like I'm half my age,
And all I need is a mike and a stage,
Some would say, I say, I'm sick of these airplanes,
Automobiles in these... shit,
Maybe I'm right, then again maybe I'm wrong,
Another day, another song, fuck I'm taking too long,
And guess what happens...
I won't be happy until I get home!
I won't be happy until I get home!
I won't be happy until I get home!
I won't be happy until I get home!
Singing in the house,
Niggers know I'm around!