Returning home after years away, from overseas I made my way
I walked the world then came back home, an old guitar and a thousand poems
Roads are quiet, light is dim, the town is empty, look within
Up the rocks to the Pinnacle, the fogs is something mythical

Fifty-Eight, and Twenty-Five E, Kentucky, Virginia and Tennessee
(At the) Old Mill Inn, the rivers roil, my roots are in this native soil
 
I have walked ten thousand years, Im waiting for the smoke to clear
I wash my feet, the river cold, beneath the trees lay down my load
Friends and lovers, some are here, others gone, my near and dear      
The cemetery with Mawmaw Lou, cant bring myself to visit you

Middlesboro and Harrowgate, there you find out what is what,
(But) some things here are still unspoiled, Cumberland, my native soil

I came back after years away, why I did I couldnt say
What I seek still isnt clear, perhaps shell help me find it here

Im hiking through the Gap again, (like) three hundred thousand other men
The land is green, the air is clear, Im not the first to pass through here 
Look inside, Im still alone, it does no good that Ive come home
I dont quite know what Im lookin for, just wanna find what I found before

Fifty-Eight, and Twenty-Five E, Kentucky, Virginia and Tennessee
The day I leave this mortal coil, bury me in my native soil

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