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  1. Goin' Home

From the album The Belmont Sessions

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Lyrics

This old city's got me down, it really ain't my kind of town
And I don't know why I ever came this way
Clutch my guitar to my breast, forget the rain and try to rest
But the old man in the doorway, he wants to hear me play

He's never left this town it seems, and just like me he's got his dreams
And the bottle where he keeps them comes in view
He fumbles with the cap a while, takes a swig and cracks a smile
Then sitting in that doorway, we shared a dream or two

And I sang to him of Carolina summers
Those pine trees reaching for the sky
And I sang of the Smokies in the winter
and how I'd like to go back home before I die
Yeah I'd like to go back home before I die

A taxi's headlights cut the rain, and caused the old man's eyes some pain
But he shrugged it off, and cracked a toothless grin
He shivered as the night grew colder, sang along as he grew bolder
Then sitting on that doorway, he asked me where I'd been

So I sang to him of California summers
Them redwoods, stretching toward the sky
And I sang of the Sierras, in the winter
And how I'd like to go back home before I die
Yeah I'd like to see my home before I die

Close to dawn he dozes off, the rain kept falling, somewhat softer
And it rolled down off his scratchy, dream soaked, face
I began to think on all we'd said, cause it's hard to sleep in a concrete bed
But you know lyin' in that doorway, I found a kind of grace

And I remembered west Texas in the summer
That tall grass burning 'neath the sky
And I remembered Red River, in the winter

And how I'd like to go back home before I die
You know I'd like to see my home before I die
Maybe I'll be heading home, by and by