It was fourteen years ago
I took this same road
to find my own way home.
Now I'm coming back
to the place where I once belonged,
nowhere left to run.
I can smell the lemon trees
back in the years.
I can see my old man's boots
covered in mud.
I wish I could come back home,
go back in time.
Now I'm holding in my hands
a tiny photograph
that's almost all I've got,
father'n'mother's memories
I keep in black and white.
I wonder where they are now.
I can feel the morning dew
I can hear the rooster singing
I can feel the prairie wind
back in the years.
I can smell my mother's stew
on Saturday night.
I wish I could come back home,
go back in time.