Searching for my destination

I'm sitting in the railway station,
Got a ticket for my destination.
My suitcase and guitar in hand,
And every stop is neatly planned.
I've come to look for America,
Laughing on the bus, playing games with the faces.
So I looked at the scenery,
So the moon rose over an open field.
The next morning the sky outside,
It was a hazy shade of winter.
Homeward Bound,
I wish I was, homeward bound.
Home where my thoughts escaping,
Home where my music's playing.
And I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet,
in the forest than on the street.