Copyright 2001 by Grant Carrington (lyrics & music)
and J.R. Robusto (music)

I grew up workin' and playin' on the family farm,
Where life was simple and I seemed to be safe from all harm.

After doin' a small boy's chores,
I'd come in from the out of doors
The lights of my mother's kitchen so cozy and warm.
Islands of light, calling the prodigal home.
Islands of light, why did I ever roam?

Well, our house was on a hill surrounded by fields of grain
And its lights were a beacon coming home from a high school game,

Where my mother was baking bread,
Making sure we were all well fed,
And her kitchen lights shone with a love that was honest and plain.

Well, I left my home in a search for fortune and fame,
Neither of which has ever been attached to my name.
And I get so cold my whole body gets numb
And when I have to leave town all I have is the price of a thumb.

Now I'm standing by the highway where the shoulder it isn't so wide

And none of the cars passing by will give me a ride.
On a hillside so very near
Shines a light so warm and clear
That I want to go over and share in the love inside.
Islands of light.

Unfortunately, I don't know the chords to this one. JR figured them out. If you really need to know them, send me an email and I'll ask JR to tell me what they are.

Feel free to perform this song in public, as long as you mention who wrote it. (A mention of the CD, Songs Without Wisdom, and the fact that it can be purchased from would be appreciated too.) If you want to record it, however, you will have to cross my palm with silver. My brother-in-law comes from Sicily.