From the northern bitter winds that come to carry me away
Watching needles off the trees detach and wander in the wind
Giving me some solid company, whatever door I wander in
And as the wind breaks on my skin and my skin breaks in the cold
I think bitterly to myself, "hope I never do grow old"
For while I'm young and have the audacity to say what I believe
I turn and face the door and wonder if I have the strength to leave
This place
(Oh I want to leave like the leaves did 3 months ahead of me, I wish I had their ambition)
Watch the mourning death of winter and the whiteness that brings
Contrast it with the dark of summer nights, the blackness of the breeze
In my world down is up and up is down, and nothing's in between
It's just a sorry twist in a sorry world with a sorry little me
I am a wanderer at heart (but I've never really wandered)
I am a wanderer at heart
I am a wanderer
(Oh I wanna be) A wanderer
God made me a wanderer at heart
Come back to present mind in the present time and walk through golden gates
Into a rusted yard of circumstance to which I never could relate
Every footstep seemed to short and every breath seemed far too long
Every mark was made too shallow, every move was far too strong
So while I sit with good intentions and slowly waste away
I still wait to live intentionally, like a needle in the hay
That feels lost among the long grass, ever waiting to be found
Yet has found itself quite comfortable, and really weighted down
I am a wanderer at heart
I was a wanderer at heart
I could be a wanderer at heart still
If only I really had the heart
So while I sit among the hay
And waste away my days
I'll reminisce about the days I lived
That never really came
