A man will come back to the place of his youth
In search of the things left behind.
He thinks of a place,
Of a smile on a face,
But the last mile’s the hardest to find.

So don’t you know,
Don’t you know, my friend,
Tho’ the empty cry of the lonesome man,
Tho’ the hollow sigh of the wandering man,
You can’t ever go home again, again.
Can’t ever go home again.

I’ve known the high country where lone eagles fly,
The desolate nomad’s terrain.
And now when my years are all winters,
I try to call back all the summers in vain.

So don’t you know,
Don’t you know my friend,
Tho’ the empty cry of the lonesome man,
Tho’ the hollow sigh of the wandering man,
You can’t ever go home again, again.

Can’t ever go home again.
Can’t ever go home again.