WANDERER

 

I HEAR THE HIGHWAY CALLING ME WHILE SOFT WINDS RULE THE NIGHT;

THE ASPHALT'S WARM AND GENTLE, AND THE STARS AND MOON ARE LIGHT.

THE YELLOW STRIPES ALONG THE ROAD WOULD GUIDE ME TO THE WEST,

WHILE MORNING SUN ENCHANTS ME, AND SAYS THAT EAST IS BEST.

THE NORTHER BLOWS AND CHILLS THE LAND, ITS HARSH WINDS CALL ME FORTH.

THE CONCRETE'S COLD, FORLORN AND HARD   IT LEADS ME TO THE NORTH.

THE FREEZING WIND BERATES THE CHOICE, AND BLOWS FROM WINTER'S MOUTH;

IT WHISTLES AND IT WHEEZES, AND IMPLORES ME TO GO SOUTH.

SPRINGTIME FLOWERS IGNITE THE ROADS, THEIR BLOOMS DELIGHT MY WAY.

WHILE SOME SAY GO, EXPLORE THE WORLD, THE OTHERS BEG ME STAY.

FOR I AM JUST A WANDERER, STILL YEARNING TO BE FREE.

BUT I'LL STAY HOME AND DREAM WITH YOU, IF YOU'LL STAY HOME WITH ME.