Blasted Cold

Here's me sitting in the sunset, watching trees bend down and sway

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