I’ll be there soon I get in about a half past noon
But I might as well be on the moon
Cause when I’m there I’m far away deep into my childhood days
I wonder if I should’ve stayed in Philadelphia?
there’s something ‘bout the place we’re born – you get pulled away too soon you’re torn
And memory a familiar thorn – lookout
And even after all this time I look but I have yet to find
That part of me I left behind in Philadelphia
from William Penn and the mothball fleet
I pray that I might find my feet
Touching down on hallowed streets that know the way back home
There’s something I cannot describe
it’s more than just a state of mind
that washes over me each time I find my soul in Philadelphia
Now I’m walking down to my old park
past the giant tree with peeling bark
As the sun goes down and the sky grows dark
And these ancient smells they fill my soul
gather in that giant hole that still remains from years ago
And despite the many things that’ve changed
it’s all remarkably the same
I could almost swear I hear my name my name
whispered on the breeze
and with each familiar place I see
I wanna shout out “Hey, it’s me”
By chance has anybody seen the little boy from Philadelpia?
I know I know I know….I can’t go back there now
But I just want to hang around a little more
Let these feelings come and go the way they always do
Isn’t that what memories are for?
I’ll be there soon, I get in bout a half past noon
But I might as well be on the moon….