We go outside in the sun   For the last hours of the day   For the best hours of the day      Our heads are sore from the day   We've had or the night before   But our worries seem to pass   When we lay down on the grass      In the dwindling light of the sun   In the arms of your only one   When the wait and the work has been done   Is this home? Is this home?      I could be wrong, so what?   We won't be young for long   And there are trees outside for us to climb   In case we grow too old before our time      In the dwindling light of the sun   In the arms of your only one   When the wait and the work has been done   Is this home? Is this home?      At the prettiest part of the day   When the sunset starts out on her way   And his arms and his lips seem to say   This is home, this is home