The Travel Song

Note: Anything in italics is unknown. If you think you know what the words are feel free to edit away. Any time... Lets fly this chicken coop and take the scenic route The long way around there is no wrong way now Lets sleep, eat and dream and savour our travels And babble our stories to anyone who'll listen You see I've walked the Himalayas singing praises to the music makers Saddled up horses, Greyhound buses and aeroplanes I've lived on riverbanks and in the tropics of this land With an amazing lady all the way from Switzerland I've driven in a Kingswood to the rhythm of Bob Marley (hey Joe) With a friend who played a Cassady to my roving Kerouac I've slept by the road and I've hitch hiked the Hume From Cedar Bay to Lady Bay to bain maries in diners I've taken time slow, so slow that it grows and grows and grows But how long? Who knows? The open road moves, seduces and aligns you And every road we happen down is to be continued It loosens up this soul, the present tense resolved Travelling unravelling this narrative that goes on It swings us and swoons us and pulls us to push on So far from home and where we come from But it's love at first sight with the sights you see Love affairs with the everywhere and everyone you meet It nourishes the curious, the restless uncontained We travel their path like blood in the veins We free-falling, free-spacing, this world with free reign Fall in love with love and love when we change untamed I'll enjoy this view from this patch of ground To all my companions whereever you are now My smile stretches inside out and back around Let's keep travelling Keep travelling, travelling... Keep travelling this earth while we're Earth bound because its Time to journey while this World is turning while the Sun is burning and this Life's for learning so let's Keep on moving making Tracks snaking making Maps trace the changing Moons wax and waning Heartaches for craving Expeditions crazy Strange food for tasting Strange words and sayings Strange strangers meeting Open-minded people breeding Keeping good relations, leaving footprints in your memory banks Gutter-trash and of angle saints And of missing cash and of better thanks The way this world operates is sure to keep you spinning West of Sundays, we'll get there some day Travel all ways in more ways then one Remember where we're from and how far we've come To change the rising sun on and beyond the back We're on the track this song is rapped from hidden flats Living out your suitcase, your sleeping back, your back pack Tap the source of troubadours, stay on course, we use the force All nomads know that, all nomads know that All nomads know that, come on all nomads know that (All nomads know that, all nomads know that...) Our cup is twisted, grease lift I open up and read this as a grand and epic thesis never to be completed On highways and bush tracks with trail mix in my backpack Strangers becoming friends becoming friends becoming stranger Caught in the rip of this ad-lib existence Like being drunk in a pub somewhere screaming, "I love this moment" Rolling in the mists of too many spliffs In conversations on the cusp of incidental love affairs I've driven a truck called Bess from Alice to the Gippsland wilderness Sat around the campfire with some crazy tribes and confessed But none the less I've done my best to catch a fire and hold my breath To cut my thumb and hope for the best but know that now is perfect I've run the east coast circuit, zigzagged the Great Divide I've found myself absurd and nervous mad in love magnified I've talked to crazy hobos about the science of having no home And beached comb a better one only stopping when the wind does My vagabond drifting, call it searching for hunger The hungry road digests me in its stomach of awe ingest, see? There's a sign pointing left but I know my impulse to be right The cafes in my lounge rooms in their bathrooms are my bathrooms With an office in my pocket, fortune in my walking boots I'll talk in tongues and spoon loose eating time and almonds The tiniest of molecules floating in anything is possible That small wind of intuition kicks me like a soccer ball I find myself in Kakadu rapping rappidly down the avenues Of "where am I?" and "What have you?" and it's time to go pick fruit (yeah) 'Cause this world is ripe and ready and I don't want to stay in the same spot I want to see it revolve from the bottom to the top Yeah, expose myself to culture sunshine and raindrops And gently become in tune to the path paved in the flow