That quiet contentment of knowing you're going somewhere,
Sitting, waiting, watching, wondering.
Traveling fulfills that rambling desire
Needing to leave and wanting to go
Just to be somewhere else and away
Free.
Others sit idle counting the minutes
I sit happy counting the miles
Going, Going, Going,
The In-between – the Non-places
Thats home to me
Wanderlust – traveling free
Going to where you're supposed to be.
Strange faces in new places
This is home to me.
Miles away with a bag on my back,
Anything to wander free
Far from the mundane every day
The waiting, the journey, the getting there,
Its what makes it worth it to me.

Everywhere I see a glance
That flicker of even the slightest chance
of something beautiful trapped in side
that infallible spark that refuses to die.
A flame that grows with every passing day,
in the young when they go out to play.
And in the old, that thoughtful look
the one thats captured in a scrapbook
The silence of a new snowy day,
and the thunder when its dark and gray.
The excitement from a game of baseball,
the rowdy sorrow that follows last call.
In the place where passion lies,
a vast space with endless sky
that is where I choose to be,
I see you beauty, I cherish thee.