Going Home

There's no way of knowing, When I'll get to where I'm going. One day I'll arrive just like the rising sun. In the night I question, If I'm headed the right direction. Point me true north, And I'll find my way back home. To that land on the other side of the line, Beyond the reach of the hands of time... We're going home, oooh woah oooh Golden fields remind me Of the heritage behind me; Every plot of land, Is a story of a faithfulness. I see the river running, As sign of what is coming, When all the streams will follow As one mighty river again To that land on the other side of the line, Beyond the reach of the hands of time... We're going home, oooh woah oooh We're going home, oooh woah oooh We're going home, oooh woah oooh We're going home, oooh woah oooh