Smith
Yes, I knew it all along that I'd have to go back home
'Cause this living on the road, ah, it makes me tired and sore
Like a bird without a nest, like a stranger in the night
And my soul must have its rest but the end is not in sight.
Like that sweet magnolia wine, honey, dripping from your mouth
And the little gal of mine, she's the finest in the South
And the nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder
And I wanta go back home, yeah, lay my head down on your shoulder.
Yes, I knew it all along that I'd have to go back home
'Cause this living on the road, ah, it makes me tired and sore
Like a bird without a nest, yeah, like a stranger in the night
And my soul must have his rest but the end is not in sight
And my soul must have his rest but the end is not in sight
And my soul must have his rest but the end is not in sight
...