CONCERT CLASSICS VOL.3 THE END IS NOT IN SIGHT Lyrics by Russell Smith Guess I knew it all along I'd have to come back home 'Caude this living on the road Only makes me tired and sore Like a bird without a nest Like a stranger in the night And my soul cries out for rest And the end is not in sight Tastes like sweet magnolia wine Honey dripping from your mouth And that sweet little gal of mine She's the finest in the south Now the day's are gettin'longer And the nights are gettin' colder I just want to come back home Lay my head down on your shoulder Guess I knew it all along I'd have to come back home 'Caude this living on the road Only makes me tired and sore Like a bird without a nest Like a stranger in the night And my soul cries out for rest And the end is not in sight © Fourth Floor Music (ASCAP) ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. USED BY PERMISSION