The Conflicts of Travel

Home is where the heart is

and my heart is a sailor

A fickle adulterer
it beats to the rhythm of childrens tears

tears at every port.

Hearts that miss
Hearts that wish

To translate truth
we lie

In search of truth
we are blind

Home or away?

There's no 'and' about it.

When I was in Nam...

Back in Nam,
The economy was different
I had money
I was a queen amongst tiny shoe sizes
Back in Nam,
I sat in hotel rooms
sipping at sweetened condensed milk with a little coffee added
for flavour
Sitting in cafes
breaking crossaints
sweating butter
Back in Nam,
I wore cashmere
pure silk
and finely embroided bags
I wasn't a student
I was ma'am
I was the blinding white beacon of beauty
I was a celebrity
Back in Nam,
troubles were a dream I knew I had
but couldn't quite place
days lasted for weeks
and home was breakfast
from 7-10
When I was in Nam,
I had a great time
nothing bad happened at all
and everything was fine.