For wanting to be where I am is painted  constant by where I’ve been


Tis a curse the blessing of having been here to fore many times and times For wanting to be where I am is painted constant by where I’ve been You see, I’ve rode the roads ten-thousands of miles and cut the skies all up and ‘round to tramp cross the greatest lands I’ve slept in cars and paid for beds some shoddy some grande to live the life of an amblin’ man I’ve slept many grounds where I’ve met up with my lonely self and dealt with the years of my minds I’ve rallied with chums many a night and somehow always made out still with my stones I miss these thrills and chills of my memory but here now are the visions of what I will soon miss too And round I go missing and longing for what I have and what I knew

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