Note: Anything in italics is unknown. If you think you know what the words are feel free to edit away.
Any time...
Lets fly this chicken coop and take the scenic route
The long way around there is no wrong way now
Lets sleep, eat and dream and savour our travels
And babble our stories to anyone who'll listen
You see I've walked the Himalayas singing praises to the music makers
Saddled up horses, Greyhound buses and aeroplanes
I've lived on riverbanks and in the tropics of this land
With an amazing lady all the way from Switzerland
I've driven in a Kingswood to the rhythm of Bob Marley (hey Joe)
With a friend who played a Cassady to my roving Kerouac
I've slept by the road and I've hitch hiked the Hume
From Cedar Bay to Lady Bay to bain maries in diners
I've taken time slow, so slow that it grows and grows and grows
But how long? Who knows?
The open road moves, seduces and aligns you
And every road we happen down is to be continued
It loosens up this soul, the present tense resolved
Travelling unravelling this narrative that goes on
It swings us and swoons us and pulls us to push on
So far from home and where we come from
But it's love at first sight with the sights you see
Love affairs with the everywhere and everyone you meet
It nourishes the curious, the restless uncontained
We travel their path like blood in the veins
We free-falling, free-spacing, this world with free reign
Fall in love with love and love when we change untamed
I'll enjoy this view from this patch of ground
To all my companions whereever you are now
My smile stretches inside out and back around
Let's keep travelling
Keep travelling, travelling...
Keep travelling this earth while we're
Earth bound because its
Time to journey while this
World is turning while the
Sun is burning and this
Life's for learning so let's
Keep on moving making
Tracks snaking making
Maps trace the changing
Moons wax and waning
Heartaches for craving
Expeditions crazy
Strange food for tasting
Strange words and sayings
Strange strangers meeting
Open-minded people breeding
Keeping good relations, leaving footprints in your memory banks
Gutter-trash and of angle saints
And of missing cash and of better thanks
The way this world operates is sure to keep you spinning
West of Sundays, we'll get there some day
Travel all ways in more ways then one
Remember where we're from and how far we've come
To change the rising sun on and beyond the back
We're on the track this song is rapped from hidden flats
Living out your suitcase, your sleeping back, your back pack
Tap the source of troubadours, stay on course, we use the force
All nomads know that, all nomads know that
All nomads know that, come on all nomads know that
(All nomads know that, all nomads know that...)
Our cup is twisted, grease lift
I open up and read this as a grand and epic thesis never to be completed
On highways and bush tracks with trail mix in my backpack
Strangers becoming friends becoming friends becoming stranger
Caught in the rip of this ad-lib existence
Like being drunk in a pub somewhere screaming, "I love this moment"
Rolling in the mists of too many spliffs
In conversations on the cusp of incidental love affairs
I've driven a truck called Bess from Alice to the Gippsland wilderness
Sat around the campfire with some crazy tribes and confessed
But none the less I've done my best to catch a fire and hold my breath
To cut my thumb and hope for the best but know that now is perfect
I've run the east coast circuit, zigzagged the Great Divide
I've found myself absurd and nervous mad in love magnified
I've talked to crazy hobos about the science of having no home
And beached comb a better one only stopping when the wind does
My vagabond drifting, call it searching for hunger
The hungry road digests me in its stomach of awe ingest, see?
There's a sign pointing left but I know my impulse to be right
The cafes in my lounge rooms in their bathrooms are my bathrooms
With an office in my pocket, fortune in my walking boots
I'll talk in tongues and spoon loose eating time and almonds
The tiniest of molecules floating in anything is possible
That small wind of intuition kicks me like a soccer ball
I find myself in Kakadu rapping rappidly down the avenues
Of "where am I?" and "What have you?" and it's time to go pick fruit (yeah)
'Cause this world is ripe and ready and I don't want to stay in the same spot
I want to see it revolve from the bottom to the top
Yeah, expose myself to culture sunshine and raindrops
And gently become in tune to the path paved in the flow