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(John Fiddler) |
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Thinkin' about my past, and |
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I can't help myself |
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Feelin' like an unwritten book sitting on the author's shelf |
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Let the printer set the type, 'n even roll the press |
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Writer, write your story and get me outta this mess! |
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All of the prophecies written in the fortune stars |
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Race through my mind in anarchy like railroads of colliding cars |
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I live like a mirage, and |
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I live like a dream |
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Many people think that they know me, but they're only outside lookin' in 'n |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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So you can't turn my pages or read between my lines |
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Till the birds have fled their cages 'n there ain't no more gold to find |
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Let the fiddler play until the break o' day |
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Hand me that bottle boys and let me drift away |
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Big drift away!!! |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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I've been travelling, travelling for so long |
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Big drift away!!! |
