The Music Weaver

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 anywaySo the song, it is yours

And the song, it is mine

And a cold wind, it blows

Through good fortunes of timeThe hobo, he leaves

When the going is bad

And the music he weaves

Is so gentle and sad

But freedom he has anyway