No Place Like a Place Called Home

I jus thought i'd sit n write,a song,or maybe a poem, maybe bout a place,some folks call home, ya know i ain't got much to say bout that, cuz it's been a while,since i had a place to hang up my hat, except an ol rusty nail,thats been banged in an ol tree, not far off the road,reckin it's as close to home,as i'll ever be, so how will i find the words,reckin i'll jus have to go from the things that i've heard, from fella's i meet every now n then,seems they are always headed back home again, i jus don't know,why they ever wanted to leave,if it's all they say, i can plainly see they truly believe,as they turn away,so i won't see em cry,as they grieve, n ya know it kinda makes me mad,that somethin they tell me is so nice, can make a fella so sad,n still say,they love n miss it,so dam bad, i guess to me it jus seems,a picture,that is jus passin thru in my dreams, i always thought,homes,were jus places,full of things,that jus gather dust, where ya spent all day,paintin things so they wouldn't rust, so i reckin im glad,the road,is the place for me, jus so many things,out here, for me to see,n i don't like being,where i already been, i like feelin free,n blowin along with the wind,n jus knowin that where ever i roam, i can always choose,to let my heart,feel like im home