Lonesome For A Place I Know - Everything But The Girl

So here we are in Italy

With a sun hat and a dictionary

The air is warm, the sky is bright

Your arms are brown you’re sleeping well at night

So why does England call?

The hedgerows and the townhalls

After all, there’ll soon be nothing left at all

If we were born outside of place and time

To make our choice, well this would be mine

To live and die under a sun that shines

But something pulls, something I can’t define

Tells me England calls, whatever she’s done wrong

Always calls, «This is where you belong.»

And I’m lonesome for a place I know

Oh but Florence you tempt me (here) to stay

Amidst your hills to while my years away

But your roots in soil lie, mine in paving stone

And I hate what it’s become, but in my bones

I’m lonesome for a place I know

Why does England call?