The wanderer has seen many things,
In his many years of travel,
Many songs, he likes to sing,
While he lets his thoughts unravel

One foot in front of the other,
He looks at the clouds he's under,
He stops, to look,
And sit and wonder
What's become of his father and his mother

Still, he travels on,
Searching for the rights to his wrongs
He grows ever fond
Of the mountains he passes,
That stretch so long

He is the wanderer,
He is the wonderer