| You take a rickety plane
|
| From Seattle up into Anchorage
|
| You step on the concrete
|
| Gazing at the midnight sun
|
| Jump in my pickup
|
| And we’ll drive
|
| Bring your troubles
|
| Down highway nine
|
| I got a pullout couch
|
| And a job lined up at the cannery
|
| Catch a ride to Homer, Alaska,
|
| Brother, the drinks will be on me
|
| (chorus)
|
| We’ll raise a glass
|
| Lift a chalice
|
| Welcome to Alice’s Champagne Palace
|
| The finest bar on the strip in Homer, Alaska
|
| If you’re from New York, LA, Dallas,
|
| You’ll find a home at the Champagne Palace
|
| Alice will pour you a cold one
|
| You go ahead and ask her,
|
| If you’re running away to Alaska
|
| Now the mountains rise from ocean to sky
|
| In Homer, Alaska
|
| And they’ll steal your breath
|
| And your troubles in the blink of an eye
|
| You’ll hear a band with a steel guitar
|
| There’s a window seat right at the bar
|
| The whales are breeching
|
| And Alice is preaching
|
| «Like a Rolling Stone»
|
| She’ll push a mason jar
|
| Across the bar and say,
|
| «Mister, welcome home»
|
| (chorus)
|
| You’ve never been to
|
| A prettier place than Homer, Alaska
|
| You’ll never find a kinder face
|
| Than the one behind the bar
|
| Homer’s a town full of misfit toys,
|
| Renegade women, runaway boys
|
| Everybody’s got a
|
| Story here in Homer Town
|
| I guess sometimes you gotta go
|
| To the end of the earth
|
| Just to turn yourself around
|
| (chorus) |