I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be " home ." Is home the places that we've once lived, or is it the people who've lived there with us? Is it both? Perhaps home something else entirely, something we're always creating as life goes on. I've no answer to this question, but I've listened to many songs that speak of home. These songs all speak of their artists' own homes. Their musings aren't exact, and they aren't necessarily all full truths. But, they are all singing of some conception of their homes, even if they exist only in their own minds. Here are some of these artists' musings of their own homes, found, as is usual, in the words of country songs: "Deep within' my heart lies a melody, a song of old San Antone; where in dreams I live with a memory, beneath the stars all alone. It was there I found beside the Alamo, enchantment strange as the blue up above; a moonlit path that only she would know, still hears ...