| The only the thing I see ahead is
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| Just the heat a rising off the road
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| The rainbows I’ve been chasing keep on fading before I find my pot of gold
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| But more and more I’m thinking, that the only treasures that I’ll ever know
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| Are long ago and far behind and wrapped up in my memories of home
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| Home was a swimming hole and a fishing pole and the feel of a muddy row between
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| my toes
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| Home was a back porch swing where I would sit and mom would sing amazing grace
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| While she hung out the clothes
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| Home was an easy chair with my daddy there and the smell of Sunday supper on
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| the stove
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| My footsteps carry me away but in my mind I’m always going home
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| Now the miles I put behind me ain’t as hard as the miles that lay ahead
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| And its much too late to listen to the words of wisdom that my daddy said
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| The straight and narrow path he showed me turned into a thousand winding roads
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| My footsteps carry me away, but in my mind I’m always going home
|
| Home was a swimming hole and a fishing pole and the feel of a muddy row between
|
| my toes
|
| Home was a back porch swing where I would sit and mom would sing amazing grace
|
| While she hung out the clothes
|
| Home was an easy chair with my daddy there and the smell of Sunday supper on
|
| the stove
|
| My footsteps carry me away but in my mind I’m always going home
|
| Yeah, the straight and narrow path he showed me turned into a thousand winding
|
| roads
|
| My footsteps carry me away, but in my mind I’m always going home |