Hey, it’s Kay Let me tell you a little story about Buddy Lane What street did you grow up on? Funny… I used to wonder if everybody had a Buddy Lane Mine was Buddy Lane Just a little road tucked into the hills of West Virginia The river never seemed to be in a hurry Neither were we You didn’t have to knock on Buddy Lane Somebody was always happy to see you I asked around town once Everybody’s got a different name for it Different houses Different faces But every evening ended the same way Windows open Music floating outside Neighbors talking like tomorrow could wait Funny… how every hometown feels different… until somebody starts telling the story Buddy Lane… or Maple Street… Old River Road… whatever yours was It was muddy shoes Porch lights Open doors People who knew your name before you had to introduce yourself Home… was never really the address It was the people Side-by-sides throwing dust behind us German Shepherds running ahead like they already knew where we were going Campfires by the river Fireflies after dark The kind of nights you don’t realize you’re going to miss Bikes left in the yard A basketball rolling across the driveway Someone grilling dinner Someone laughing from three houses away It didn’t matter whose porch you ended up on Everybody belonged somewhere There’s still an old porch light at the end of Buddy Lane I bet you’ve got one too Funny… every town has one Maybe… it’s there to remind us… some lights aren’t left on for houses They’re left on for people Buddy Lane… you’ll always feel like home Not because it’s perfect Because it reminds us who we were before life got complicated You don’t have to knock on Buddy Lane The porch light’s on Come on in We’ll save you a seat Love, Kay
