Flies On The Butter (You Can't Go Home Again)

Old tin roof, leaves in the gutter

A hole in the screen door big as your fist, and flies on the butter

Mamaw baking sugar cookies, we were watching cartoons

Heard her holler from the kitchen which one of you youngin's wants to lick the spoon?

Yellow jackets on the watermelon, honeysuckle in the air

Daddy turning on the sprinkler, us kids running through it in our underwear

Old dog napping on the front porch, his ear just a-twitching

Fell asleep on Granddaddy's lap to the sound of his pocket watch ticking

Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh

It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago

Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh

You can dream about it every now and then

But you can't go home again

Me and my best friend Jenny set up a back yard camp

Stole one of Mama's Mason jars, poked holes in the lid and made a fire fly lamp

Me and Billy Monroe sneaking down by the river

And I'm still haunted by the taste kiss I was too scared to give him

Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh

It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago

Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh

You can dream about it every now and then

But you can't go home again

There's a black-top road, a faded yellow centerline

It can take you back to the place, but it can't take you back in time

Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh

It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago

Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh

You can dream about it every now and then

But you can't go home again

Old tin roof, leaves in the gutter

A hole in the screen door big as your fist, and flies on the butter