Paul sang of the winding road
that Papa said aint got no rules.
But there’s a million miles out there of highway
always begging my soul to move.

Sitting still at the speed of light
counting seconds and I’m watching minutes.
It seems as you move down along the bank
it’s all in how you spin it.

Fluid motion like a raging stream
got a heart like a rolling stone.
That never passes on that next big bend
and just rests them bones at home.

So as the moments well they fly right by
you never see what the gardner grows.
Long before the leaves they turn to brown
and the sky begins to snow…

Don’t know where I’m going,
I only know where I been.
I can’t find the end of the rainbow
and it’s starting to rain again.