I worked my way through 48 states
Scraping the sky, scratching the dirt.
I thought I’d find myself when I found my place
far, far from the things that hurt.
A top every peak, under every stone,
in every eye, I looked everywhere for home.
But it was nowhere and I was all alone.
So I gave up and went back home.
Tiny town, tiny town, tiny town I’ve looked and I have found.
Tiny town, tiny town, tiny town to where I’m from, I’m bound.
My grandma went to my high school
and of course, my mom and dad did too.
Now that’s three generations of classmates
spread all around the town like Easter eggs.
Working running owning this place.
What year did you graduate?
Me, I was the class of 88, 88, 88,
eighty eighty eighty eighty 88!
You can round the world going everywhere,
but tiny town is always there.
Pretty much like it’s always been.
Like a family quilt or a childhood friend.
You leave for the things that never change.
Come back for the things that stay the same.
The swimming hole. The family name.
Hey Columbus, had to make it back to Spain.