While visiting the famous Cafe Du Monde in New Orleans,
a man began shining my shoes before I could even refuse
(I was too nice to kick him - and dumb enough to tip him!).
Anyway, the event inspired this bit of whimsy.

Well I went down to New Orleans
That funky town, both dirty and clean
    You wanted me out of your hair
    And I had to go somewhere

Deep in the heart of that Creole Crescent City
It's equal parts smooth as oil and gravel gritty
I tried to lose these travel blues
They shined my shoes, and I heard the news
    I can't call home my home if you, babe, won't be there

Well the next place was New York City
That funny face, so ugly it's pretty
    You needed space without me around
    (I can be such a clown)

Down in the middle of that mean old Apple core
It's brown and riddled, but shines like gold, and what's more
I tried to lose these shiny shoes
I heard the news, and I got confused
    I can't call home my home if you, babe, won't be there...
    I can't call home my home if you, babe, won't be there...

Well I took off to old Boston town
I'm gentle, I'm rough, I'm lost and I'm found
I caught a bad cough when I hit the ground
    I can't call home my home if you, babe, won't be there...
    I can't call home my home if you, babe, won't be there...
    I can't call home my home if you, babe, won't be there...