Home

There's a tall run of pine up on Wichita Hill That with time I could turn into timber With the swing of a hatchet and a steady foot mule I could frame up a house by December So this evening I'm loading my saddle And I'll pray that this weather moves through Before I take up the reigns in the morning And set out back to Georgia and you The Music Row lights have been calling my name Since I first pulled a bow cross a string And I heard they paid double at the Heaven's Hill Bar For a fiddler that knows how to sing But my path went astray up near Macon And when I covered the Tennessee line My fiddle was already busted And my betting was already blind And though I don't know what awaits me It might be this is the end But if home is for what I was looking I'll keep looking 'till I see you again I've got a hat full of feathers, a pair of boots full of holes And a hunger that feeds at my soul I spent most of my silver just looking for ways That I could learn how to turn it to gold But the treasure that we seek in the morning Can tarnish 'fore the evening begins And the love that we hold at a distance Can be the love that we need in the end And though I don't know what awaits me It might mean that this is the end But if home is for what I was looking I'll keep looking 'till I see you again But if home is for what I am looking I'll keep looking 'till I see you again