Beatles, the

Two of us

Two of us riding nowhere spending someone's hard-earned pay.
You and me sunday driving,
not arriving on our way back home.

We're on our way home, we're on our way home,
We're going home.

Two of us sending postcards, writing letters on my wall.
You and me burning matches,
lifting latches on our way back home.

You and I have memories
Longer than the road that stretches out ahead.

Two of us wearing raincoats, standing solo in the sun.
You and me chasing paper, getting nowhere on our way back home.

We're going home.
Better believe it!
Goodbye.