If you headed west on 84, you're in her drivewayShe'll greet you with a welcome backA cotton field and a winter bond bouquetSinking summer suns her porch lightIt's so bright I look awayMac Davis playing on my stereoBrings a smile to my faceGod, I miss this placeTake me home where the air is dryAnd the cotton in the winter we'd grow knee-highI tell you, friend, I ain't seen a prettier sunset skyA little windy, but I don't mindA little breeze through my hair suits me just fineAnd you ought to see them stars burn at nightguitar soloFeeling low from the road, time to head back homeNothing like a little bit of loving to get me highShe's quite an artsy ladyShe gave birth to rock and rollHit me as to where her heart's atShe tell you she got country in her soulAnd you can hear them singing on BroadwayDown in the deep hallThat goes to Buddy HollyStill alive and singing this songTake me home where the air is dryAnd the cotton in the winter we'd grow knee-highI tell you, friend, I ain't seen a prettier sunset skyA little windy, but I don't mindA little breeze through my hair suits me just fineAnd you ought to see them stars burn at nightguitar sologuitar soloFeeling low from the road, time to head back homeNothing like a little bit of loving to get me highguitar soloFarmers working hard all weekBreaking their backSending prayers to an autumn harvest moonAnd on Saturdays they paint that townScarlet and blackguitar sologuitar soloOld Dean Street down where the lights are blueguitar sologuitar sologuitar sologuitar sologuitar sologuitar sologuitar sologuitar sologuitar sologuitar sologuitar sologuitar soloTake me home where the air is dryAnd the cotton and the winter wheat grow me highAnd a boy and a girl with a dream can touch the skyA little windy but I don't mindA little breeze through my hair suits me just fineAnd you ought to hear the liquor bells ringing on a Saturday nightIn the lower of the road, time to head back homeThe friendliest place I've ever knownNothing like a little bit of loving to get me highAnd you ought to hear the liquor bells ringing on a Saturday nightTake me home where the air is dryAnd the cotton and the winter wheat grow me highAnd a boy and a girl with a dream can touch the skyA little windy but I don't mindA little breeze through my hair suits me just fineAnd you ought to hear the stars burning highTake me home where the air is dryAnd the cotton and the winter wheat grow me highI tell you friend, I ain't seen a prettier sunset sky