© 2026 FOOTLOSE — Rights reserved. Concept, lyrics, artistic direction, prompting and final editing: Footlose. AI assistance: Mistral & ChatGPT. Music, sound design and vocals generated with Suno AI. Contains AI-generated elements. Commercial use subject to applicable Suno Pro terms. ---- A Malagasy spiritual dance about returning—not to a house, but to the people and places where the heart still knows it belongs. ---- The road I travelled was long, the night was silent. I walked, I walked far away, yet I could still hear my heart. I am going home… I am going home… There were roads I did not know, there were days I could not see. I searched far away for what had always been inside me. Yet there is still a voice, calling softly. I do not know where it comes from— but I know that voice. I am going home… Home. I am going home… Home. As long as there is a road, I will keep walking. We walk together. As long as there is a voice, I will keep listening. Home. I am going home, back toward the voice that still knows me. I am going home, back toward the land my heart still remembers. I am going home. Home. Not only a house, not only a road— but a place where I am not lost. I am going home. Home. I am here. I am still here. My footsteps already know. My heart already knows. I am going home… The days are no longer the same, my face is no longer the same. But when I heard again the voices that had walked beside me, they did not ask why I had left. They did not tell me I had returned too late. There was still a place among them. There was still a place for me. I am going home. Home. Home! We walk together! Home! I am going home, no longer alone. Home. I am going home, we walk together. We walk together. I am going home. It was not the road waiting for me— it was the hearts that still knew me. I am going home, and now I understand: home is not merely a place. I am going home… Home. I am here. Home. I am going home… ---- Ela ny lalana nalehako, mangina ny alina. Nandeha aho, nandeha lavitra, nefa mbola nandre ny foko. Mody aho… Mody aho… Nisy lalana tsy fantatro, nisy andro tsy hitako. Nitady lavitra aho izay tao anatiko ihany. Nefa mbola misy feo, miantso moramora. Tsy fantatro hoe avy aiza— fa fantatro ilay feo. Mody aho… Mody. Mody aho… Mody. Raha mbola misy lalana, dia mbola handeha aho. Miara-dia. Raha mbola misy feo, dia mbola hihaino aho. Mody. Mody aho, mody any amin’ny feo izay mbola mahafantatra ahy. Mody aho, mody any amin’ny tany izay mbola tsaroan’ny foko. Mody aho. Mody. Tsy trano ihany, tsy lalana ihany— fa toerana iray izay tsy very aho. Mody aho. Mody. Eto aho. Mbola eto aho. Ny dian-tongotro efa mahalala. Ny foko efa mahalala. Mody aho… Tsy nitovy intsony ny andro, tsy nitovy ny tavako. Fa rehefa reko indray ireo feo niara-dia tamiko, tsy nanontany izy ireo hoe nahoana aho no lasa. Tsy nilaza izy ireo hoe tara loatra aho. Nisy toerana teo afovoany. Nisy toerana ho ahy. Mody aho. Mody. Mody! Miara-dia! Mody! Mody aho, tsy irery intsony. Mody. Mody aho, miara-dia isika. Miara-dia. Mody aho, tsy ny lalana no niandry ahy— fa ireo fo mbola nahalala ahy. Mody aho, ary fantatro izao: tsy toerana fotsiny no antsoina hoe mody. Mody aho… Mody. Eto aho. Mody. Mody aho…
