The Music Weaver

Mmm

I'm a long way from you

I'm a long way from home

And who cares for the feeling of being alone?

The notes and the words

They will always unfold

And I'm left with a manuscript that will grow old

And the secrets all told anyway

So the song it is yours

And the song it is mine

A cold wind it blows through good fortunes of time

The hobo, he leaves

When the going is bad

And the music he weaves is so gentle and sad

But freedom he has anyway