(Kate Power & Steve Einhorn)
Looking out across the lake, the geese are flying high
Pulling north to spring ahead, winter leave behind.
Underneath the banks of the moraine rise;
From the foot of Blue Mountain tops, the eagle cries,
I hear your song, it sings to me
On city streets across the sea
Where I belong and long to be,
I hear you calling
There was time when I was young and full of where to go
Following rainbows in the the sun through ice and rain and snow
Looking back, remembering every turn
I took along the old road home and felt it everywhere I'd roam
There really is no place like home, sweet home, sweet home.
Riding in the wilderness, deep canyons, red and brown
Rivers full of summer fish meandering middle ground
Imnaha to Wenaha River, Troy,
Rattlesnakes and hooting owls and lost cowboys;
Now I'm back to city life and buildings by the mile;
Far apart from country roads and mule deer running wild.
There's a place inside, open wide & free;
Comes to me from time to time, sweet memory