Good morning to you...
I have often told you stories about the way I lived the life of a drifter...
Waiting for the day when I'd take your hand and sing songs...
Then maybe you would say...
"Come lay with me"
You love me, and I would surely stay...
Many times I've been a traveler, I looked for something new...
In days of old, when nights were cold... I wandered without you...
But those days I thought my eyes had seen you standing near...
Though blindness is confusing, it shows that you're not here...
Now I feel I'm growing older, and the songs that I have sung echo in the distance...
Like the sound of a windmill goin' 'round...
I guess I'll always be a soldier of fortune......
