Lyrics: Jason Robert Brown
Music: Jason Robert Brown
I go to bed at night,
Hoping when I wake,
This will all be gone
Like it was just a dream.
And I'll be home again
Back again, in Brooklyn.
Back with people who look like I do,
And talk like I do.
And think like I do.
But then āāThe sun rises in Atlanta again.
These people make me tence.
I live in fear they'll start a conversation.
These people make no sense.
They talk and I just stare and shut my mouth.
It's like a foreign land,
I didn't understand
That being southern's not just being in the south.
When I look out on all this
How can I call this home?
( La la la la in the land of cotton.)
These men belong in zoos,
It's like they never Joined civilization.
This Jews are not like Jews,
I thought that Jews were Jews,
But I was wrong.
I thought I would be fine,
But four years down the line
With every word it's very clear
I don't belongāā
I don't cuss,I don't drawl,
So how can I call this home?
Home calls
And I'm free of the southern breeze
Free of magnolia trees and endless sunshine...
Ever more lives the dream of Atlanta.
But not mineāā
Not mine!ļ¼we stand togetherļ¼
A Yankee with a college education.
( In the great state of Georgia )
Who by his own design.
Is trapped inside the land that time forgot.
( Strong and proud )
I'm trapped inside this life.
And trapped besides a wife
Who would prefer that I said "Howdy" not "Shalom".
Well, I'm sorry, Lucille.( God bless the sight )
But I feel what I feel.
( Of the old hills of Georgia )
( Ever more lives the dream of Atlanta)
And this place is surrealāā
ļ¼The old red hills ofļ¼
ļ¼Ever more her eternalļ¼
So how can I call this home?
ļ¼Old red hills of homeļ¼