There are many places to go and see,
and many things I could soon be.
There are an awful lot of choices near,
an awful lot of things to fear.

Which do I choose to get it right?
Does every path end in a fight?

Perhaps there is no truly perfect way?
No one place where my treasures lay?
Perhaps I must flow with the gentle breeze,
to find my way among the trees?

Life will carry me where it may,
I'll live to see another day.