| I’ve seen the Blue Ridge Mountains rise tall
|
| I’ve heard the San Francisco sea lions call
|
| I left my heart in a dirty old bar
|
| in Laramie, Wyoming, I slept in my car
|
| And there were days when I thought; |
| this is it
|
| I couldn’t go forward, yet I couldn’t quit
|
| I wrote this song with my love behind the wheel
|
| but no matter how I sing it, it won’t tell you how I feel
|
| From the red fields of Texas with their oil below
|
| to the big sky country of Idaho
|
| I traveled the highways where memories roam
|
| of greatness and dreams
|
| but now I’m going home
|
| I felt the California sand between my toes
|
| I smelt the sweetness of a Portland rose
|
| But there ain’t nothing that compares, you know,
|
| to the big sky country of Idaho
|
| From the red fields of Texas with their oil below
|
| to the big sky country of Idaho
|
| I traveled the highways where memories roam
|
| of greatness and dreams
|
| but now I’m going home
|
| In the heart of Alabama Walter kept his house
|
| exactly as it was when his mama was alive
|
| And thirty thousand miles
|
| and four hundred something days
|
| has left me with an everlasting love for this place
|
| And there were days when I thought; |
| this is it
|
| I couldn’t go forward, yet I couldn’t quit
|
| I wrote this song with my love behind the wheel
|
| but no matter how I sing it, it won’t tell you how I feel
|
| From the red fields of Texas with their oil below
|
| to the big sky country of Idaho
|
| I traveled the highways where memories roam
|
| of greatness and dreams
|
| but now I’m going home
|
| I’m going home |