Almost heaven, West Virginia, Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River.
Life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze.
Country roads, take me home to the place I belong.
West Virginia, mountain momma, take me home, country roads.
All my memories gather round her, miner’s lady, stranger to blue water.
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky, misty taste of moonshine, teardrops in my eye.
I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me, the radio reminds me of my home far away.
And driving down the road I get the feeling that I should have been home yesterday, yesterday.