I was 18 and eager to skip this small town,
see the world, take a long hard look around.
I planned to try my hand at something new,
have fun, run a bit wild, see what all I could do.
Well, I've been 10 years in California, and it’s been a blast,
but something’s changed with the time that’s passed.
I didn’t see it coming but now my vision is clear.
Truth is, I never really felt that I belonged here.
So I’m packing up my bags, my kids and my spouse,
and we’re in the market for a three-bedroom house
back in the South among family and friends, in my hometown.
In Livingston Parish, in my hometown.
I’m a Walker Wildcat. My wife's an Albany girl, and she feels the same;
we both miss the rivalry of the Friday night high school football games.
We want our kids to enjoy the rides and rodeo at the Livingston Parish fair,
And the thrill of jumping into the Amite River from a swinging rope on a dare.
We’ll take them frogging and canoeing at Tickfaw State Park,
and keep them out hunting in Livingston’s piney woods til near dark.
They’ll go to local schools and get a great education,
and we’ll drive to Grande Isle for a weekend vacation.
We came back for the crawfish boils, the catfish, the etouffee,
the clear air, sunshine and cornhole games on a hot July day.
Plus the fun of shopping at Juban Crossing and Bass Pro,
and especially with the friendly local folks’ businesses, don't you know.
Not the least, we’re back for safe neighborhoods with low crime,
and watching tee-ball games at North Park, glad for slower times.
Sundays in church we see many familiar smiling faces,
and get invited to Sunday dinner at a dozen different places.
My mom and pop are happy and proud as they can be
to have us back in town where everyday they see
their grandkids growing up here in their hometown.
It feels right to be back in my hometown. Our hometown.
The L.A. we saw out west can’t hold a candle to our La.
So we plan to stay in Livingston Parish for the rest of our days.
In our hometown.
Always, in our hometown.
