Mickey Newbury — A Long Road Home

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A Long Road Home

A             C#m      D     A      
How I long to feel the salty wind 
F#m           C#m       D          E  
Off Galveston Bay in my face once again 
  F#m           C#m        D            A  
A warm southern wind on my weather worn skin 
F#m                 C#m  Bm    E  
Perhaps I would not feel so old 


Now I long to hold the golden sand 
In the hollow of my hand 
Stand for a while there and fill in the hole 
Left in the heart of a wounded old soul 

A           C#m     D           A      
Here’s to tomorrow, here,s to today 
F#m           C#m    D         E         
Here’s to whatever I never did say 
F#m           C#               D             Bm                  
Here’s to old friends who have gone seperate ways 
A             E    A
Here’s to the memories 

How I long to be in those East Texas woods 
I would be in those old piney woods if I could 
On a hot summer mornin' down Centerville Way 
With the windows rolled down in my old Chevrolet 

Just cruisin' the backroads with nothin' but time 
Three nickels short of having a dime 
Miles from the highway with no hill left to climb 
Me and the whisperin' pine 

Here’s to tomorrow, here,s to today 
Here’s to whatever I never did say 
Here’s to your love you are happy I pray 

Out on this long stretch of Interstate 10 
That ole Del Rio station just keeps rollin' right in 
Many the night it was my only friend 
Me and the radio 

The Silver Moon Cafe was once out this way 
Like Route 66 boys it too had its day 
And this rusty old sign here is all that remains 
My how the times have changed 

They tell me ole Bud Rose hocked his guitar 
Bought a ticket to Nashville to become a big star 
Now he works on a bottle and he lives in a car 
Do you still have your dreams 

You remember the old town here yesterday 
The walk from the Ryman to the Linebow Cafe 
We would stop in at Tootsies and Tubbs on the way 
And slowly head East down to First and Broadway 

Hey look at that ole river but how it just keeps rollin' 
If it was a clock I could stop I would try 
I would let it roll down on about '65 
Perhaps I would not feel so old 

Hoist all the sails Bud to hell with the breeze 
Prayed for a wind that will bend every tree 
And a storm that will bring every man to his knee 
Heres to the howlin' sea 

Here’s to tomorrow heres to today 
Here’s to whatever I never could say 
Here’s to the piper the bastards been paid 

Down on this long stretch of Interstate 10 
El Paso to Phoenix to L.A. and then it is north to northwest 
I just follow the wind 
And by midnight tonight I will be home in Springfield again
		
    

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