The way’s wake of stars
It’s been a long day travelling to ends far,
Walking beneath a molasses wandering sky,
Kicking up the dust, these lonely road scars,
From the tumbles and falls, where stories fly.
The stories fly, they fly above it all,
The stories fly, vertical without a doubt,
Oh can you tell me, what it’s like to fall,
Oh can I hear the sounds, of setting out.
Walking just that bit further than the eye can see,
Positive to meet someone along, or another way,
In the timeless where the wind it screams, places free,
Do you have a moment, to rest awake, to stay.
The stories walk, they waltz above it all,
The stories walk, along the longitudes,
Oh can you whisper me, what it’s like to run,
Oh can I listen in music, fall beneath a setting sun.
Take me to see the places, both fine and wild,
Stumbling beneath a blue sky, or a thunder storm,
In the cold, or in the heat, any kind of weather smile,
Just to hear our feet upon the land, an old land born.
The stories climb, they climb aloft and deep,
The stories climb, the spinning latitudes,
Oh can you wander with me, let’s trek far,
Oh can I feel the noise, in the way’s wake of stars.
Can we hear the world, can we hear the verse,
Or is it just another day beneath the way’s wake of stars.