Dine on open roads and dust Each meal another stamp These pockets filled with traveled ink Beg gypsies to make camp These stamps they urge for permanence These stamps they whisper home But these soles deaf to stand-still dreams Wonβt listen, will just roam No tar pit streets or shackled needs Will hold me in their grasp My ship will sail to float the sea The nets are tied and cast These travels promise me more meals of dirt and humble brews My thirst cannot be quenched indoors A drought my soul would lose These travel stamps drip ripe with ink They live to smudge and haunt The signature Iβve signed in soot My birthright home does taunt Yes, I must off to earth and air Where deeds for land are scant These soles the only souls I trust I hope you understand