Billy Dyer - Justin Cross

Billy Dyer was a postcard writer

Traveling the whole world 'round

Sent letters to his folks

To tell them all about

The things that he found

I never met him but it sure upset me

When I heard Billy was gone

Billy Dyer must have lit a fire

Somewhere deep in my bones

My mother Mildred raised some mighty fine children

There were seven in all

Despite my education

And the way my mother raised me

Lord, I still heard the call

When I set out on the road

No one told me just how lonely I’d be

Or of the time I would waste

Trying to raise enough change

To pay the cost of being free

Let your legs go where they’ll go

Let your heart roam

Home is never home

For the children of the road

I tried to write but couldn’t justify

All of the mistakes that I’d made

So instead of writing letters

I figured postcards would better

Keep demons at bay

Never revealing the regret I was feeling

For not facing my fears

Only places on a map

And some writing on the back

That said «Wish you were here.»

Let your legs go where they’ll go

Let your heart roam

Home is never home

For the children of the road

If home is where the heart is

What if your heart’s broken

If sorry’s where the start is

What if it’s unspoken

One day the road may bring me back to you

Mother Mildred raised some mighty fine children

There were seven in all

But because of Billy Dyer

One fell in the fire

Trying to stand up too tall