You Can't Go Home
Nanci Griffith · Other Songs - Nanci Griffith
Gonna put my cheek to the window and watch it sleep
Where the shadow's fall from sycamore trees
Fight off this north wind and I'll be headin' back east
And let the Colorado river roll on to the sea
I will be crossing it changes
And this 'ole town never did really care
That much for me
I don't know why I always come here
In my dreams
It's the hardest to hold, but it's the easiest to find
If you'll slip for the dollar, I'll fall in the wine
But you cannot save your past for today
It will leave you cold on an outbound train
And let the Colorado river roll on to the sea
I will be crossing it changes
And this 'ole town never did really care
That much for me
I don't know why I always come here
In my dreams
Folded memories in my soul
It's that old blue line that you can never go back home
So I'm waiting for the moon to rise
As it'll kiss my tears away and set my heart in line
And let the Colorado river roll on to the sea
I will be crossing it changes
And this 'ole town never did really care
That much for me
I don't know why I always come here
In my dreams
And let the Colorado river roll on to the sea
I will be crossing it changes
And this 'ole town never did really care
That much for me
I only come here to remember my dreams
Sleep tight
Hill Country town
Goodnight
You Can't Go Home
Nanci Griffith stands as a defining voice in American roots music, celebrated for her ability to weave narrative storytelling with melodic folk and country sensibilities. Her extensive discography showcases a range of styles, from traditional balladry to contemporary songwriting, often exploring themes of displacement, memory, and the complexities of returning to one's origins. "You Can't Go Home" reflects this enduring preoccupation with place and identity, capturing the bittersweet reality that the past remains inaccessible. Throughout her career, Griffith has maintained a reputation for lyrical depth and vocal clarity, contributing significantly to the folk revival. This recording exemplifies her skill in crafting intimate portraits of human experience, resonating with listeners through its honest examination of longing and the impossibility of recapturing lost moments.

