I’m a vagabond. I’m a wanderer. Whenever I have set out on a journey, a journey of life or state, its been a crucial one, one that involved travel across geography as well as transcending from one phase of life to the other. Always had a surge to fullfill the desire of taking that journey for the cause best known to me and yet unknown to me. Yet, no one journey ceased. Everytime I laid my tent of satisfaction on the nomadic grounds, I gradually moved on to another journey to another land of belief. So I followed the path across dilemma’s. Landscape’s, nature’s bliss, sweat, bruise’s, blisters, breathless, freezing, walking, sailing, flying, faces. As I got tired, I rested under the tree of dreams. But I woke up to a bright day and resumed my walk. The sight and the words lost their value in the journey. The destination didn’t matter anymore, but the journey itself did. For when I’ll walk, I know I’ll reach, but I must discover.
I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete
I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I’ve been dreaming of?
Oh simple thing where have you gone
I’m getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you’re gonna let me in
I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
And if you have a minute why don’t we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don’t we go
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know. Until we rest.