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A place I know so well, I could never get lost. 
These back roads and highways a thousand times I've crossed. 
I walk them in my dreams, sometimes I even fly!
The joy of being home, the sorrow of goodbye. 

I could never feel this way about stone! Wooden beams and timbre will never make a home. 
It's my Momma and my Daddy, my kin and all my friends…it's the people that I love, I make my home with them. 
It's the scent of fresh pine needles carpeting the ground, 
The gurgle of the creek out back,  I can still hear that sound. 
It's the way when I wake up, I know just where I am…if home for you is love,  you can always go home again. 

Home is grandma's rhubarb pie, though she can't make it anymore. But she gave the recipe to me and now, honey it's yours. Daddy can no longer play and sing the songs we grew up on, but I remember every word and I'm passing them along. 

No, I could never feel this way about stone! Wooden beams and timbre will never make a home. 
It's my Momma and my Daddy, my kin and all my friends…it's the people that I love, I make my home with them. 
It's the scent of fresh pine needles carpeting the ground, 
The gurgle of the creek out back,  I can still hear that sound. 
It's the way when I wake up, I know just where I am…if home for you is love,  you can always go home again. 

Yea,  “Country Roads will take me home to the place I belong”…cause if home for you is love…you can always go home again.

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